


Drowning in a Sea of Hydrangeas

by EvelineOrihara



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Guilt, Hueco Mundo, Ichigo is a dumb bastard and Grimmjow doesn't understand feelings, Implied/Referenced Abuse, It'll be heavy and profound but I promise it'll be worth it lol, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, The Ichigo/Uryu scene will be very Grimmichi-centric tho so I hope that lessens the dislike lol, There will be scenes with dub/con, There will be some mentions and some scenes that deal with Ichigo/Uryu, Vasto Lorde Ichigo, but they're necessary for plot lmfao so I apologize in advance if that's not your cup of tea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-10-31 14:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17851343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelineOrihara/pseuds/EvelineOrihara
Summary: Life was never simple for one Ichigo Kurosaki. When a routine hollow extermination goes wrong and Ichigo ends up losing control of his hollow powers, he finds himself spiraling down a road of total self annihilation.Through holing himself up in Hueco Mundo and being forced to spend his time either bickering with Grimmjow or drowning his sorrows in vice, he'll learn that mistakes don't make a person and perhaps the meaning of life is actually about who you love and what you do for them.<< Will update a minimum of twice a month, sometimes more <3 >>





	1. To Have and To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was heavily influenced by music so I'll be posting the names of songs before each chapter :)) The song for the fic as a whole is To Have And To Hold by Depeche Mode.
> 
> The songs for Chapter 1 are as follows:  
> Control- Halsey  
> Sick and Impatient- Citizen  
> Gasoline- Halsey  
> Ghost- Badflower  
> To Have and To Hold- Depeche Mode  
> ((in that order))  
> ENJOY!

This was not how his day was supposed to go.    
  
As the world twisted and blurred around him, Ichigo was left wondering what exactly he'd gotten himself into. The prick of goosebumps began to wash over his skin like tiny needles, pressing up through scarred flesh as a tide of nauseating nostalgia grated on his nerves. He'd felt this sense of foreboding dread before, but it'd seemed like ages since it had graced him with it's unwanted presence. He was sure that the agreement they'd made when he'd mastered the True Zangetsu was still in effect, and yet his fingers still quaked with the thrill of ripping flesh from bone. His mouth begun to water, feral instincts kicking in as the whites in his eyes drained to an inky black, pupils glowing gold as he was plunged into darkness.   
  
Shadows flickered around him in a dusty haze as he lost all awareness of his surroundings. Ichigo felt weightless, unable to move his limbs on his own accord as if he were tethered up to a sadistic puppeteer. His body  _ was _ moving, he was sure of it, but all he could see was the vast empty canvas that surrounded him. He tried to pry his eyes open, if only to get a glance of the setting that awaited his physical form, but every attempt was snuffed out before he could make any bit of progress. It was as if he was drifting in the nothingness between his inner world and consciousness, lost and left to fend for himself in the void that encompassed him.   
  
Desperately, Ichigo called for the others only for the words to reverberate around his skull in a tide of quiet agony.  After a few minutes with not even so much as a whimper in response, he focused on his reiatsu, coiling what he could gather tightly around his body, wanting nothing more than the security of being in charge of his limbs once more. What awaited him when he let out that rush of energy though, was anything but what he'd wanted to see.   
  
Hand twitching and quivering under the switch in control, warmth ran between his fingertips like a fresh surge of regret. When Ichigo opened his eyes he nearly vomited. Those same hands that once defended and protected were shoved deeply into Rukia's abdomen, nails sharp and coated in sanguine as he felt her organs shift to accommodate the inhuman fist he had driven through her. These were no longer his limbs, only foreign hollow duplicates that spread a snowy complexion that covered every inch of his skin. His hollow laughed in the back of his mind, deliciously delighted that Ichigo’s stubborn nature had forced himself to watch his own downfall. 

_ It was always like this, _ he mentally screamed, always a situation where he’d tried to lend a hand and ended up fucking everyone over. Every single task he’d tried to take on, no matter how massive or minuscule, had always ended with blood on his hands. His life was a deck of cards; Every time he’d finally stacked those stiff pieces of cardboard high enough to make a tower, he’d always stumble on the steeple, knocking the whole thing down again. He was left picking up the pieces and trying to start at square one, set on redeeming himself and remedying his mistakes no matter how much or how little anyone blamed him. It never mattered anyways, he always blamed himself in the end.

Ripping his hollowfied hand out of Rukia’s insides, he shook the ruby droplets from his fingertips and pushed her aside. Her vacant eyes stared at him a few seconds longer, eyelids finally dropping closed when her blood resumed draining out of her at an alarming rate. Though he could see the horrifying scene playing out in front of him, his body was no longer his to control; It was Ulquiorra all over again. Every step he took, every swing of his blade was animalistic, completely driven by the will to survive and destroy. In that very moment he- his hollow- was judgment. Whoever wasn't deemed worthy would be cut down. 

In a quick blear of red, he was met with a sharp knee to the spine, sending him stumbling forward. Whipping his head around in pure blood lust, he glared into Renji’s panicked gaze with the heat of molten gold. Before the soul reaper could even ready himself for another attack, Ichigo’s hollow form was behind him in a millisecond burst of sonido, grabbing the male by his braid and whipping him so far into the distance that his form was but a smear against the horizon. 

With an animalistic growl, he slowly turned his attention to the girl with the tangerine hair, cowering in absolute terror behind her Santen Kesshun. Ichigo could do nothing but watch in abject horror as his hollowfied form stalked toward her with every intent to maim and kill. When he raised his sword above his head, Ichigo inwardly gasped, totally mystified that this form would attack the person it was created to protect. He momentarily shut his eyes, unable to face the scene playing out before him until the sound of metal on metal caught his attention. 

Standing before him with Pantera blocking Zangetsu’s fury, Grimmjow scowled in annoyance, pushing his weight against the twin swords and jumping backwards on the defensive. “What the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doin’ Kurosaki?! Do you have any sense left in you?” Ichigo had never felt so relieved to be insulted, but his hollow form disagreed. Letting out a inhuman screech, he found himself lunged towards Grimmjow via sonido, forcing him to stare into widened cerulean eyes. “I’ll take that as a no,” He ground out, trying to keep the weight of the hollow from pushing him further backwards. “So this is the demon everyone was talking about huh? The one that killed Ulquiorra? That was a pretty dirty fuckin’ fight Kurosaki- not like you,”

The memory sparked a raging fire within his chest, igniting a disdain and guilt so potent it made him sick to his stomach. If he wasn’t careful- if  _ Grimmjow _ wasn’t careful- this whole situation could just be the tip over the edge he needed to break. He hadn’t wanted his battle with Ulquiorra to end so unfairly and he sure as hell didn’t want to watch the same wretched scene play out before him as Grimmjow suffered the same fate. While Ulquiorra was an unfeeling and nihilistic force, the azure espada before him was completely different. Ichigo didn’t want him dead, not like he’d wanted the former. Grimmjow was too human, too expressive,  _ too feeling _ . Whether or not he was a piece of garbage every time he’d opened his mouth, he still had free will and a consciousness and that was something Ichigo didn’t want to take away from him- enemy or not. 

Dodging attacks left and right, Ichigo couldn’t help but be grateful for Grimmjow’s cat-like reflexes. The fucker was  _ fast _ \- faster than him- and that was definitely saying something considering he was too fast for Ulquiorra; He was an espada ranked two notches higher than the unreleased arrancar, one that continued to dodge and weave through the air at such a speed he was having a hard time keeping track of him. Before gold eyes could even find him, his sweat slicked forehead was pressed against Ichigo’s mask, causing his body’s eyes to widen in surprise.

“You see Kurosaki, I like a good clean fight. One on one, me and you, full fuckin’ power. This animalistic pea-brain hollow bullshit that turns you into some sort of killing machine? It’s disgusting,” The blue hilt of Pantera crashed against his skull and flaked pieces of his mask off like old paint chips, “Look around you, look what you’ve done. I bet you’re really fuckin’ pleased with yourself huh,  _ monster _ ,”

Sickness churned inside of Ichigo’s stomach as burning, seething hatred took a hold of his inner hollow. With a deafening roar of equal parts anger and loathing, the beast that had a hold of him begun to charge a cero, the burning red ball of festering energy mere inches from Grimmjow’s face. As his hair whipped in the flurry of air caused by the shift in reiatsu, he scoffed, drawing his sword and bringing it down just as quickly. The half gathered cero discharged directly left of Grimmjow’s head, firing off into the distance and far past the trees until the impacted explosion it left was just a dull buzz of energy. 

Watching his horn fall to the ground like a piece of African gathered ivory, he met Grimmjow’s cocky gaze, “Don’t make me laugh asshole. You haven’t even been  _ alive _ long enough to be able to get a cero off on me,” Pushing Ichigo backwards with enough force to send him stumbling to the ground, the arrogant espada placed his blade underneath the chin of his hollow mask, “Now disappear demon, and bring back the whiny ass redhead. I’m already bored of you,” 

Like a punch to the gut, all the air was suddenly stolen from his lungs, and he was left maskless and tattered among the litter of bodies and chaos he’d created. Stumbling to his feet on pure adrenaline, he trained his gaze on Kisuke first. The blond shopkeeper was knelt over Rukia’s unmoving body, a steady golden light emanating from his palms as he focused on what Ichigo could only assume was a healing Kido. His gray eyes searched the battlefield and landed intently on Orihime as she silently sobbed behind her glowing shield. Ichigo turned to her next, extending his hand in order to help her to her feet, only for his heart to drop into his stomach when her eyes went wide and her form shrunk even further behind the glowing orange light of Santen Kesshun. She was afraid. She was afraid of  _ Ichigo _ .

A firm palm cupped Ichigo’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off so quickly he wondered if it was even there to begin with. His mind was in shambles, world tipping and buckling under the weight of the sins he’d just committed. His hollow had retreated back into the recesses of his soul like a child throwing a petty tantrum while he was left to stand in the wake of devastation. He glanced down at his hands, caked in an almost sticky layer of rust colored blood, so disturbed by his actions that he almost bent over and puked at the mere sight. Before anyone could address him directly, he took off, sprinting and flash stepping out into the distance as far as his weak legs could carry him.

On nerve shaken limbs, Ichigo didn’t stop moving until he came upon the same bank of water that held the last memories of his mother. He crouched down, curling into himself until he was as tightly wound as his aching joints would allow. Why was it always him? All he’d ever wanted was to protect and care for but all he ever managed to do was maim. He was a freak of nature, a stain on the pavement of the natural order- an amalgamation of every race of freak known to the universe. It didn’t make him different, it didn’t make him special, all it made him was  _ dangerous _ . Even after all the tireless training he’d done to suppress the darkness inside of him, he’d still come up short. He was weak, only an infant compared to the hollow soul that resided within him. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that he was in control, it would never change. He was the horse that carried the king, not the other way around. He was only being allowed to inhabit his body- this human suit he wore was just a disguise to hide the filth that lay beneath his surface. He was beyond redemption. 

With frustrated tears coating his cheeks in angry streams, he gazed down at the water’s surface and looked into his distorted reflection, illuminated only by the hushed glow of the early morning moon. The face that greeted him back wasn’t entirely his own. Though his skin had darkened back into a sun-kissed peach and his eyes had drained back into soft honey, his body still held the trademarks of his vasto lorde form. His hair fell in waves down his back, and slid over his shoulders like soft silk, so vast in length that the edges of his newly overgrown spikes danced across his hips and almost dipped into the same stream he was looking into. The inky black marks that stemmed from his chested hollow hole were still painted across his skin, even though the gaping physical emptiness was but a tattooed sphere on his torso now. The red fur that cuffed his wrists were just red ringlets, the fur on his ankles becoming the same. He couldn’t understand why he had retained his hollow-like characteristics, but all he knew was that it was a bad omen if he’d ever seen one.

What would he do now? Assume his human body only to have it mimic the features he currently wore? So he could assume a hollow-like human form, one that would only terrorize Orihime and remind Rukia and Renji that he was just a monster under the shinigami skin they’d allowed him to play dress up in? Was he supposed to just shrug it off until one night he ended up gutting Karin and Yuzu like he had Rukia?  _ No _ . He wouldn’t let any of that happen. If he was going to be swallowed by the black, it was going to be on his terms. If it was self destructive and suicidal, so be it. He was protecting what was left of the ones he loved, and that was as noble a cause as any. He wouldn’t pretend to be a self sacrificing saint, but if shutting himself away from the other’s preserved his honor and integrity, then he would selfishly disappear into the night as if he’d never existed to begin with. There was nothing left for him there anymore. 

Flashbacks of guts in his hands and the tearing of flesh had Ichigo doubling over and puking into the dewy grass beside him. He was a fiend,  _ a monster _ . How had he just sat and let that happen? Why had he frozen up like a helpless child and watched as the demon inside of him wreaked havoc and destroyed everything he’d worked so hard for? It made no sense to him. Through the entire Gotei 13, numerous arrancar, Aizen himself, the fullbringers, and Yhwach, and  _ still _ Ichigo was left aged 21 and a survivor of two wars with no knowledge of the extent of most of his powers. His inner hollow could strike again at any time and he’d be absolutely helpless under the thumb of his own uncontrollable potential. 

Coming to his final conclusion, Ichigo wiped what was left of his tears from his damp cheeks, determined to look at least partially sane. He stood, resolved and ready, and took off in the direction of Kisuke’s shop. If anyone could fill his ridiculous request it would be the nosy shop keeper himself. He needed to be sent far away from the people he wanted to protect; He needed to be sent to Hueco Mundo. Land of the hollows and home of the damned, it was a barren ashen wasteland of despair. Ichigo had been there only once before in the midst of war and to complete a rescue, but the memories of the endless desert and unforgiving sky were still firm in his mind. It wasn’t a place that he longed for, but it would have to do.

~~ \-------------------- ~~

Knocking frantically on the sliding door to Kisuke’s shop, Ichigo could feel the anxious tide of nausea rising within his gut. He was sure that if he was left waiting outside a moment longer Jinta would be mopping more than the shop that afternoon. Seemingly sensing his growing discomfort, the door slid open to reveal Kisuke’s smiling face. Ichigo couldn’t help but scowl at his unwarranted friendliness. 

“Ichigo! Just the man I was hoping to see!” The shopkeeper led him inside, and ushered him towards the bunkered training room, “Ms. Inoue was able to tend to Ms. Kuchiki’s wounds before they became grave. A few more hours under the Souten Kissun and I suppose she’ll make a full recovery. I’m sure everyone is still rather shaken up, but give them a few days and they’ll come around,” Kisuke’s smile was grating on Ichigo’s last nerve, guilt nearly driving him to the brink of insanity.

For the first time in hours Ichigo finally spoke up, “Thank you for caring for them Kisuke, but I won’t be around long enough for them to ‘come around’.” Urahara’s face dropped almost instantly, “I need you to open me a garganta. After what happened today, I’m not sure I can prevent him from taking over again. I need to be somewhere I belong, and that somewhere isn’t here.”

Kisuke’s frown deepened as he looked for any semblance of humor in Ichigo’s face. When he found none, he spoke again, “Ichigo, there’s no need to be this drastic. Let me call Shinji and the Visoreds and we can-”

“If the Visoreds could’ve fixed me, do you think I’d be in this situation?!” Ichigo roared, cutting the shopkeeper off before he could finish, “For fuck’s sake Kisuke, I’m some supernatural mutt with no control over his power or potential. No combination of shinigami or visored is going to be able to fix whatever the fuck kind of problem I have!” 

“What about an arrancar?” A cocky voice called from the hallway. Sliding open the door to the back room, Grimmjow stood leisurely, giving Ichigo and his altered look a firm once-over. “You sure look more hollow than human, so I say we train you like one,”

Ichigo shot the espada a deadly glare. If looks could kill, Grimmjow would be a dead man. He scowled. “First of all,  _ shut the fuck up _ . Second of all, no one asked for your opinion, especially not  _ me _ . Go skin a puppy or push an elderly down or some shit, being an asshole is what _you_ do best.” 

The arrancar threw his hands up in surrender but didn’t budge an inch, “Fine fine, je donne. But for the record, if anyone’s bein’ an  _ asshole _ , it’s you,” The cocky smile had grown tenfold, “Though I’ll let you know right now Kurosaki, you won’t last a minute in Hueco Mundo without a lay of the land. You trying to hole up there out of selfish pride is a suicide mission and you know it, don’t fuck with me,” 

Turning away from the blue-haired menace, Ichigo trained his full attention on Kisuke, “Will you open the goddamn garganta or not?”

The hat clad man frowned, knitting his brows in reluctance, “Ichigo- you know nobody blames you right? Nobody hates-”

Ichigo stopped him before he could finish, “ **_Will you open the goddamn garganta or not?_ ** ”

Silence stained the room, clawing at Ichigo’s impatience as Kisuke shifted under his gaze. Before he could grab the front of the shopkeepers haori, Grimmjow wormed his way between the two, bracing his hand against the wall adjacent to them.

_ “I’ll _ open it, but I’m coming with you Kurosaki. Someone’s gotta keep you alive. You still owe me a fight,” He smirked, expression drenched in wolfish pride.

Apathetic and unsure if he’d even heard the arrancar right, Ichigo quirked his eyebrow in mute confusion. He was desperate, but he wasn’t sure if he was  _ that _ desperate.. Grimmjow was smart and calculated, most times even one step ahead of him; There was absolutely no way his offer was without a motive, yet still, Ichigo figured he had nothing left to lose. 

Narrowing his eyes once again at the azure headache, his shoulders sagged in defeat as he gestured towards the blank wall. “Fine, whatever, but you’re going in first. I’ve already been stabbed in the back once today, I don’t need Pantera stuck in my spine too,” 

Without another word from either of them, the atmosphere in the room shifted as a ripple beckoned his one way ticket to Hueco Mundo. 

Once he was through the garganta it was as if time had slowed down. Absentmindedly he continued along his trail of reishi and lost himself in his own swimming consciousness. Were sins ever forgiven? Were wrongdoings ever truly erased by actions made to mend them? Ichigo had never really thought about it, but now that the guilt of his actions had settled onto his shoulders like a gleaming steel beam, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was any way to save himself. How was he ever going to be able to look at himself ever again knowing full well that he had become the exact thing he’d hoped to never become? He’d put his fist through the one person that had always trusted him without a shadow of a doubt, mimicking the same horrid action that had been displayed by the arrancar that ran ahead of him. How would he be able to face himself knowing that he was as low as Grimmjow?

Maybe he deserved it. Maybe this was some cosmic ‘fuck you’ for being so headstrong and ignorant all throughout his life. It was all just one sick joke the universe wanted to play on him, except nobody was laughing. A mixture of Kurosaki and Shiba blood, of course some sort of karma would be trying to punish him- Masaki and Isshin were hardly saints when they were his age- it was just his rotten luck that _he’d_ be the one punished for it. Of course he deserved the torment, this was just his shitty life after all.

Perhaps maybe if he’d taken more time in talking with Zangetsu or trying to figure out the hollow in his head, than maybe he’d be better off. He’d called upon both of them during battle for years, but since when had using another equated to understanding and compassion? Maybe he really was the monster his appearance echoed. Maybe that’s what this whole big shitstorm was trying to prove to him in the first place; He was just a mindless hollow on the inside. 

Stepping onto the sands of Hueco Mundo, Ichigo was gone in the swift blur of a flash step before Grimmjow could even utter a word. He wanted to be as far away from the blue vexation as he could. He needed time to think, time to figure out the next course of action on the road to redemption, and constant nagging and bitching wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight, and that’s all the other thought he was good for anyway. 

Finally deciding the distance between them was adequate, Ichigo stood in the quiet recesses of the barren desert, taking in the sight before him as if it was his first time seeing it. Despite the hollow’s in the distance that bared their teeth at each other in a struggle of life and death, it was actually…. calming there. Ichigo would have never admitted it verbally, but there was something eerie about the land of the hollows that always felt so welcoming to him. Maybe it was thanks to the destructive power he’d held inside, but maybe it was just the acceptance of the inevitable, that monsters like him belonged here. It was his base instinct he guessed, some primal nagging in his brain to return to the place that had summoned that demonic form in the first place. This was his home now. He was just doomed to live out his days in the land of endless onyx skies, forced to exist in a tortuous silent solitude until he finally just ceased to exist. He’d become one with the sands, doomed to an eternal sleep among the ashes of the dead as he regretted his actions for the rest of time. A poetic death perhaps, definitely worthy of Shakespeare's many tragedies. 

Throwing his blades in opposite directions out amongst the dunes, Ichigo decided he no longer had use for them anymore. What was the point? For all he’d assumed, any combat he engaged in from now on would wake the beast sleeping within. Arming himself would just make him more dangerous, and that’s the last thing he’d wanted. He was sick of hurting others, sick of using his calloused hands to destroy.

He laughed bitterly to himself, finding no humor in this torturous life sentence. “The protector of one thing? Yeah right,” He muttered, letting his overgrown bangs fall over his tired eyes, “All I’ve managed to _ ‘protect’ _ is myself, dad, and all that makes me is selfish. I'm no guardian.”

Dragging his feet forward in an inert trek through the ashen bones of the desert, Ichigo had finally begun to break down. Frustrated tears were falling down his face in rivulets now, burning his eyes and choking angry sobs from his throat. He was sickening, despicable; He was a waste of space and a waste of a son. What would his mother think if she saw him now? What would he do? Apologize to her? Try to reassure her that none of this was her fault? Would he just grovel at her feet, sobbing and pathetic wishing that he was back home with her once again? Wishing for a life that was easier, one where he could simply hold her hand walking down the street and find the sorrows of the day washed away?  _ Wishing he was her innocent little boy again? _

Kicked forward with enough force to shatter a normal humans spine, he found himself rolling through a cloud of dust until he could find his footing. He whipped his head in the direction of the impact, face smeared in ash and hair in wild tangles that hung forward over his shoulders. Meeting challenging ocean eyes, he practically seethed before deflating himself, brushing the sandy grains from his torn hakama. “Can you fuck off Grimmjow? Does it look like I’m in any mood to deal with your bullshit?” 

The espada just smirked, showing off jagged teeth as if that would assert his dominance on this battlefield. “No way Kurosaki, you owe me a fight. Last time you were here you wiped the floor with me, I’ll give you that, but I’ve gotten  _ stronger _ . I’ve trained and trained and  _ trained _ . Now, I’m gonna show you what I can really do!” Ripping his sword from its scabbard and placing his obsidian clawed hands against it, he started to beckon his resurrección, “Grind! Pan-” Only to abruptly stop as he examined the despondency in the other’s eyes.

Scowling, he squeezed the hilt of his sword in his hand, knuckles going white in unbridled frustration. “You’re just going to stand there? You think you’re  _ hot shit _ just because you were able to slay Yhwach? You think you have the right to look down on me with those fucking eyes _ Kurosaki _ ? Well think again!” 

Like a bullet through the night sky, Grimmjow launched himself at Ichigo’s unmoving form, both livid and perplexed when his sword sank into his abdomen with little resistance. Forehead practically pressed against Ichigo’s chest, he howled in anger. “ **_Defend yourself!_ ** ”

Pain swimming through his body, his cells catching fire as his nerves screamed for a reprieve, Ichigo just stood there, willing himself through the agony like a masochist getting his fix. There was no use in fighting back, no use in defending himself. If Grimmjow wanted to kill him, ending his life here just for some misguided honor as the king of assholes, so be it. It was just putting him out of his misery quicker, a mercy of sorts. He had no fight left in him and no weapon to raise, so why would he try at something he had no chance in winning? It was just foolish. 

Grabbing Pantera by her blade, Ichigo ripped her from her sheath inside his guts, feeling warmth immediately start to pool down his waist. “I’m not going to fight you Grimmjow,” He started, staring down at the electric blue mess of hair that was pressed tightly against his bare torso, “I’m done with this. I’m done with this horrible thing I’ve become. If my fate is to die by your sword, then so be it. You won, King, hope you’re proud,”

Grimmjow gave him a hard shove, letting him stumbled back a few steps before grabbing roughly at the overgrown orange locks that framed his face. Giving the strands a vicious tug, he pressed their foreheads together once more, mimicking the action he’d taken when Ichigo was still a mindless hollow. “Are you fuckin’ stupid or something? You finally kill Aizen and the high and mighty Quincy bastard, and you decide right now,  _ after all of that _ , that you’re just throwin’ in the towel?” The espada’s warm breath heated the tip of Ichigo’s nose as he continued to barrage him with insults, “You know, I thought you had a fucking deathwish before, Kurosaki, but I never imagined you’d actually be dense enough to pull some brainless stunt like this! You have friends in the world of the living that care for you, a fuckin’ family that’ll wonder where you’ve gone,  **_does that not mean shit to you anymore?_ ** ” Ichigo lifted his shoulders in a weak indifferent shrug of defiance, pain seizing his muscles and finally dulling his senses. Letting go of the aggressive grip he had on his ginger hair, Grimmjow dropped his sword in exasperation, grabbing at his own aqua locks in pure resentment. His eyes were blown wide and confused, gaze searching the honey filled irises in front of him for any semblance of dishonesty. Before he could argue any further, Ichigo felt his knees buckle underneath him, sending him to the ground in a boneless heap of limps. 

When his back finally hit the ashen sand, he stared blankly up into the pitch black abyss that was the eternal night sky. Grimmjow must have struck gold, because the longer he laid flat on his back, angry at himself and the world, he felt the very essence of his life spare no time in leaking out of him. He wasn’t scared of dying, no, he’d fully embraced that fate many times before, what he did fear though, was dying like this; Dying a shameful death, drenched in regret and annoyance as it covered the entirety of the piss poor excuse of a semi-living being that he was. Maybe he wasn't exactly as sure about this as he'd thought. 

Sure he was hailed as some godly war hero, but since when had anyone’s accomplishments ever meant they were a decent human being? Every single day on the news you’d hear about some celebrity that everyone and their mother worshiped coming out saying they were a few years clean of some hard ass party drug, and every night you’d hear about the inevitable death of another fan favorite, either by overdose or old age, so why was he suddenly so infallible? As much as people reared on and on about actions speaking louder than words, Ichigo didn’t really think they’d ever considered what those people, deemed so pure in public, were doing behind closed doors. Sure, you donated thousands of dollars to charity and selflessly gave a speech condemning the drug epidemic sweeping the nation, but that didn’t change the fact that you were only spending money just to spend it and found yourself going back home only to shoot heroin and doze off in a state of narcotic induced bliss. Nobody was perfect, and Ichigo guessed that was a fact of life he was just going to have to die with. No matter how much he tried to fix the damage he’d caused to those that he’d held dear, those who’d _ trusted  _ him, nothing would ever change the fact that the damage was already dealt- the deed had been done.

Grimmjow was speaking again now, a low and incandescent hum in Ichigo’s ears. He tried to focus his attention on the drone of assailing aggressive words directed at his dazed form, but he didn’t have it in him to bother anymore. Was this him really accepting death at the hands of the hotheaded man he’d single handedly beaten 5 years ago? Maybe it was, but maybe it was just Ichigo being the stubborn bastard that he’d always been. As much as the amicable persona he’d assumed for show had been forgiving towards everyone and everything,  preaching to the high heavens about redemption- he didn’t believe in any of that crap. He wasn’t an angel and sure as hell wasn’t a God. He was just a clueless kid at heart, one that had chosen cynicism and false pretenses a long time ago in favor of becoming numb and dumb instead of healing. Parents had always told him when he was younger that if he picked a scab it would only bleed and scar, so why was that exactly what they’d told him to do when he dealt with trauma? Talk about it, work through your feelings,  _ pick that scab until it can’t bleed anymore _ . Ichigo internally scoffed. He’d thought he’d known better, applying his knowledge of the body’s way of healing to the way his brain could heal after the barrage of death he’d had to endure, but it seemed that the only thing that came from letting the scab fall off, was just more discomfort in the long run. Catch 22, he sighed, it always came back to the catch 22. No matter what he’d done in his pathetic 21 years of life, it had always been one of two sides of the same shitty coin.

Watching the moon glisten in his peripheral vision while simultaneously drowning out the now almost panicked prodding of the flat of Grimmjow’s sword, nostalgia crept its way into the forefront of Ichigo’s brain. He’d been in this position before somehow, the moon, the pain, every aspect except the looming death. He searched his brain, almost coming short until burnt sienna hair and almond eyes stared down at him in alarm. For a second he’d almost jumped straight out of his skin and across the expanse of Hueco Mundo- injuries be damned- but when the memory came flooding back to him and he’d realized he was mentally no longer in the land of the hollows, his tense shoulders dropped in curiosity for a split second before a scowl etched its way across his sullen features. 

He blinked it all away, frustrated that his mind would dare to create a mirage that would encompass the shred of humanity he had left. He didn’t want to think about his mother right now, the guilt of the indirect death he had caused already weighed on him heavily. Adding that to the pile of shit things he’d accomplished in screwing up since then was practically crushing, or maybe that was just the feeling of the rigor mortis setting in as he died. He couldn’t tell anymore, but he silently hoped it was the latter. He didn’t need any bullshit hallucination to make him hate himself even more, he was already past the point of self deprecation. Any further over the edge and he’d grab Pantera himself and slit his throat with it. 

The edges of his vision were blurring, the layout of Hueco Mundo becoming smaller and smaller before him as he lost consciousness. He was Eve in a den of serpents, it wouldn’t be long until his body would be consumed and recycled, just like the circle of life bullshit broadcasted on the discovery channel. It was eat or be eaten in the world, or so it was proclaimed, and Ichigo just really didn’t have time to buy into that baseless bullshit. Evolution was real and survival of the fittest ruled the animal kingdom, but why did assholes like Grimmjow have to apply that to every single shitty thing they did? The real world was cutthroat and shameful and frankly more than half the people you met were useless bags of human garbage, but that in no way justified using animalistic logic to mask that you were just an inconsiderate dick trying to become the top of the food chain, because that’s what the corrupted shit-stain of society taught was the meaning of life. Forget Rousseau’s ‘liberty, equality, and fraternity’, all anyone ever wanted in this life was to ascend the natural order of things, but what they all failed to realize was that the top was not only a lonely place but a very  _ very _ long way down.

Slipping into oblivion and wordlessly projecting his goodbyes to those he cared so much for, the last thing his muddled mind could remember was an audible curse and his body being heaved into the air. So much for resting in peace.


	2. Dive Into My Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! The songs for this chapter are:
> 
> Bury A Friend - Billie Eilish  
> Synthetic - The Midnight  
> Dive Into My Sun - Citizen
> 
> I've always forgot to add this in my fics, but I do have a tumblr if anyone is interested lmao it's strife-fair-and-orihara, so if you ever wanna hit me up, that's where you'll find me :')) I mostly shitpost and post gay shit, so if that's your cup of tea, gimme a follow ^^

Eyes still shut in blissful ignorance, Ichigo shifted as best he could until he was reminded of the sharp pain in his abdomen. Finding himself unconscious in _God knows where_ , he had assumed that the horrors of yesterday had been an illusion, a simple night terror to remind him of his own morality. Sadly, as he lay in a daze of half consciousness, the smell of sand and rotting flesh begun to stain his nostrils and soon he’d realized that he’d never be lucky enough for his misgivings to be as simple as a nightmare. Though he recognized the odd aromas as the atmosphere of Hueco Mundo, he was perplexed as to why he felt as if he was wrapped in soft sheets, head resting on what he could only guess was a feather pillow. Where was he _really_ , and why couldn’t he remember how he’d gotten there?

Opening his eyes cautiously, he trained his gaze on an ivory ceiling. It was worn and covered in a litany of cracks and dents, pieces of debris falling ever so slowly as Ichigo followed the trail of splits in the foundation. Shifting to get a better view of the entire room, realization hit him like a brick as he stared into cold cerulean eyes. Grimmjow was perched against the door on the opposite side of the room, surveying him with an almost curious glare as he came around. Obviously this was Las Noches- more specifically the palace of the sexta espada himself, so what was his business there? Raising an orange eyebrow at the arrancar, Ichigo finally spoke, “What am I doing here? Why am I even alive? Isn’t it your life’s goal or some shit to bisect me?”

Grimmjow scoffed, making his way to Ichigo with a languid stride, “No, I don’t wanna _bisect_ you, Kurosaki, I wanna fight you. That’s all. Never said I was gonna tear you in half,” Ichigo opened his mouth to protest but the espada hastily cut in, “Okay, _fine,_ maybe I did say that, but I didn’t mean it okay?! You offered me a good fight whenever I wanted it, I’m not dumb enough to let something like that be a one off!”

Ichigo sighed in defeat and sat up, feeling instant regret as searing pain once again shot through his abdomen. Clenching his teeth, he groaned solemnly. Casting his gaze down at the source of the pain, the ginger was even more dumbfounded to find his wound messily wrapped, the silken bandages covering the entirety of his lower stomach. With renewed curiosity, Ichigo pushed the blankets from his body and gazed down at his legs, which now donned a piece of clothing he didn’t recognize. “What the hell is this?” He asked, prodding at the milky fabric. A pair of what could only be described as closely resembling sweatpants hung low on his hips. They fit him almost perfectly, the only inconsistencies being the way they loosely clung to his waist and the sight of the ruby ringed ankles that were on full display. Obviously the clothing wasn’t Grimmjow’s, he was too tall to own a pair of pants that were short on Ichigo, so who exactly owned these? “Where did you get this? And please tell me I’m not naked under these. If you saw my dick I’m going to have to kill you, full disclosure,”

Grimmjow scoffed in disgust, “Last time I checked, _Kurosaki,_ we were both men. I don’t care what fuckin’ parts you have,” He paused to soften the lines of anger creasing his forehead, “Your clothes were soaked in blood and shredded from your hollow tantrum. As disgusting as it may seem to you, mister high and mighty, what I did for you was a kindness,”

It was Ichigo’s turn to scowl, “So, what? This a ploy to make me indebted to you or some shit? You could’ve finished me off, been rid of me forever,”

The arrancar glared, his eyes boring into him like blue flames, “You don’t owe me shit,” He swallowed audibly, trying with all his might to control his temper, “You saved me from Nnoitra back in the day. All this makes us is even, okay?”

The annoyance in the ginger’s glance melted into incredulity as he stared at the tall form in front of him. Was he _sure_ he was alive? Was this some sort of fucked up fever dream? For Grimmjow to refer to his actions as not only kindness, but to dress his wounds and tuck him into his bed like a lover? What the everloving _fuck_ was going on? The longer he searched the annoyed lines on Grimmjow’s face for any crack in the facade, he seemed to find nothing but genuine disdain towards his density. If this really was all happening, why would Grimmjow bring him to his personal living space of all places? Was nothing off limits to this guy? Wasn’t this crossing some invisible trust line that they shouldn’t have even had to begin with?

Ichigo’s head was spinning, stirring with questions and insinuations he just couldn’t quiet down. When it came to opening his mouth and actually inquiring about the situation, of course it was the most trivial of things that happened to spill past his lips. “Whose clothes are these? Obviously they’re not yours you lanky bastard, so where’d you get them?”

An electric blue eyebrow lifted. “The pants? They’re Tesra’s,” The espada paused to gauge Ichigo’s knowledge on the member’s of the former arrancar army. When no familiarity was drawn upon his features, he went on, “The blond twink with the eyepatch that followed Nnoitra around. He was the only one close to your height and build, so I figured stealing from them as one last ‘fuck you’ wasn’t going to be a burden on my conscience,” He shrugged, “Unless you would’ve wanted to lay in my bed naked. I definitely could’ve left you that way,”

The wolfish grin was back in full effect as Ichigo’s face turned six different shades of crimson. “What?! Why do you have to make everything so fucking weird? You’re supposed to be describing in detail how you want to disembowel me, not fucking _flirting_ with me!”   
  
It was Grimmjow’s turn to turn pink, “ _What?!_ I am _not_ flirting with you! I’m trying to piss you off!” He was sputtering now, completely taken off guard by Ichigo’s implication, “Why the fuck would I- You know what? Fuck it. I’m leaving! I should’ve let you bleed out like a pig!” Stomping to the door in a fit of childish rage, the arrancar only turned around once more before he left, “You’re in Las Noches. You’ve been here before- destroyed most the fuckin’ place- so you should be able to find your way around. I’m going out to hunt, try not to cause too much fuckin’ trouble,”

When the angry footsteps disappeared down the long corridor that he could hear more than see, Ichigo untensed, settling himself back against the plush fabric of the espada’s bed. Burying his face in the pale pillow, he finally let himself sulk. The last 24 hours came rushing back in drowning waves, encompassing him in an onslaught of both self-hatred and disgust. Battered and bruised, bathed in the pale moonlight that shone through the single window of the room, Ichigo felt his composure begin to crack as he sunk into a mental blackout.

As powerful and unstoppable as he was, especially with his inner hollow given free reign to rampage as he pleased, Ichigo still felt vulnerable and pathetic. He was doomed to be at war with himself for the rest of eternity, and as much as he’d wished he was able to cope with that, it wouldn’t leave him be. It festered in his brain until it became a force so overwhelming that he couldn’t stop the frustrated tears from soaking Grimmjow’s pillow in defiance. He knew he shouldn’t have been dropping his guard low enough to become a sniveling child in enemy territory, but he couldn’t help the anguish that had soaked into his skin.

His life was insignificant. All he’d ever been was a trump card, part of a much larger picture where he was only a fleeting mess of lines, not even close to being the centerpiece. He was always on the front-lines of battles risking his life for everyone else and they’d just let him, as if he really was just an expendable tool. Now that he was unusable, obsolete and unstable, what would become of the others? With no shield to guarantee their safety, what would become of the people he loved? The reality was they’d all move on. Maybe not graciously or quickly, but they’d get there in due time. Ichigo’s life was unimportant, a trivial existence- the dull flicker of a dying flame or the dull buzz of the droning on of time. He was just a speck on the mural of the universe, hyped up into believing the naivety that called out to him being something more. The only more that he had become was a monster.

On the reflective marble ceiling, he turned over and stared at himself, absolutely disgusted at what he’d become. The tears streaked through the soot and dirt that splotched across his cheeks, while his hair laid cascaded in auburn waves around his body like a halo of fire. He was truly a sight to behold. He looked more arrancar than anything; Body displaying hollow markings with the only minuscule amount of clothing he wore milky and white, he supposes he would’ve fit right in among Aizen’s ranks. He ran his hands down his face, using the moisture to rub his cheeks clean, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, he just felt filthier. No matter how many times he would try to cleanse himself, he could never be clean again. The things he’d done, the damage he’d caused, he couldn’t erase that. It was a stain permanently etched across his features, something akin to a scar that he’d be forced to bear for all eternity.

The only thing Ichigo wished for right now was to be single layered. No hollow living inside of him. No fucked up amalgamation of ancestry breeding power in his veins. He could deal with being a shinigami, in fact, that was the center of his horizon- the only thing he wished to be- but life was rarely ever that simple. Instead he had to be a mutt of massive supernatural proportion, rejecting every single universal law of friend and foe. He was the murky inbetween, a creature that stood on all sides instead of swearing his loyalty to one. He was millenniums too young to have a say in the way of the worlds, so who was he to try and pick sides? Instead he’d always just be standing stationary in the void, stuck with a parasite breathing down his neck and waiting for it’s next meal.

 _“You wound me Ichigo.,I’m much more dangerous than a parasite. You’re stuck with me and I’m stuck with you. No way around it,”_ The hollow in his head had finally spoken up, taunting him and laughing at his weakness, _“You might as well just give up while you’re ahead. While you drowning in this self suffering regretful bullshit is funny to watch an’ all, I’d like to move this process along. Things to do, places to be,”_ A shrill laugh, and then silence was all Ichigo got before throwing his pillow across the room. A few shelved knick knacks soared to the marble floors with a splintering crack, but none of it caught Ichigo’s attention as he fumed.

Backing against the wall, Ichigo drew his knees to his chest and knotted his fingers in his hair, grip almost definitely tattooing crescent moons in his scalp as his nails dug in without remorse. His chest ached, burning with such frustration that he couldn’t speak. Warmth ran down his temple in a liquid streak as his ironclad grip broke skin, but he couldn’t center his buzzing thoughts long enough to react. He felt synthetic. His life was not his to dictate anymore. There was no saving himself like he had in the past, there was no salvation. He wasn’t Ichigo Kurosaki anymore.

The door to the room flew open and slammed against the wall, and though the initial shock caused Ichigo to jump, he stayed curled against the wall, hoping that maybe the more he sunk into himself, the smaller he would become. If he was lucky, maybe he’d disappear altogether.

“What’s going on?” A familiar voice called to him through the haze of his secluded delusion, “Kurosaki? Are you okay?”

He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak or express his growing dread. He was losing every last semblance of humanity he had left, and all he could do was stand stationary and watch like a deer in the headlights before a collision. Warm hands gripped at his wrists in an attempt to detach him from his unyielding grasp, but there was no budge until Ichigo’s tear smeared face was pressed against the cool metal of a zipper and soft fabric. His eyes shot open in surprise and outright horror, simmering down into a dull hum until all that he could feel was panic draining from his system like he’d sprung a leak. His nose was assaulted by the sweet smell of minty eucalyptus and the euphoric scent of wet earth after rain, all wrapped up in a masculine aroma that could only be described as Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

The grip on him loosened slightly. “I’m going to let go of you, but only if you promise me you won’t throw a bitch fit when I do, alright?” Receiving no response, the arrancar pressed on, “Nod once for no, twice for yes,”

Still shell-shocked and unsure, Ichigo tentatively nodded his head twice. Grimmjow released his grip as promised, stepping back a few inches so Ichigo could get his bearings, but immediately closed the gap once more as Ichigo’s breath caught in horror. As he stared down at his freed hands, he was disgusted all over again. His nails were longer than they’d been when he’d woken up, now smeared with the familiar sanguine stain of blood. Visible mutation. He was losing this battle faster than he’d imagined. Unbeknownst to him, his hollow and him had already become one, mixed like a drop of dye in a cup of clear water- once dropped in, there was no changing back.

Grimmjow tilted his chin upwards, “Listen, nothing’s wrong. You’re not dying or anything, so calm down,”

Though the gesture was decidedly meant to be soothing, Ichigo’s face broke into a scowl as he smacked the espada’s hands away. “You really don’t fucking get it do you?” He ground out, voice cracking under pressure, “Not dying? I already know what’s going to kill me! I might as well be a walking corpse! A ticking fucking time-bomb! I’m being turned inside out as this demon inside me takes control of the body that I’ve inhabited my entire life! I’m being kicked out of my own skin and you have the nerve to tell me to _calm down_?!”

A firm hand met Ichigo’s cheek in a harsh slap. A small fire started beneath the skin, instantly sending prickly shockwaves across the surface of his face. Staring into hardened azure eyes, he almost slapped him right back, the espada’s voice being the only thing pausing what he thought was the inevitable, “You done yet? Told you not to throw a bitch fit,” Grimmjow started. Ichigo’s jaw dropped, absolutely floored at the arrancar’s ability to be an insensitive asshole, but found himself pleasantly surprised when he spoke again. “You stood toe to toe with half the arrancar army, you almost slaughtered Aizen, and you halved Yhwach from what I’ve heard, so why the fuck are you sitting here like a pathetic ass excuse for a victim? Kurosaki, you are probably the most powerful living being between the three worlds right now, if you don’t snap out of this fucking toddler tantrum in the next five seconds I’m going to stab you again,”

A humorless laugh escaped Ichigo as he bore into the arrancar’s arrogant gaze, “As flattered as I am that you think so highly of me, spoils of war and battle achievements don’t make a man where I come from,” He paused, trying to steady his voice, “You think you know me? _I_ don’t even know me. Stop acting like you understand what I’m going through,”

“You really think I haven’t felt as hopeless as you do right now Kurosaki? You seem to forget I’m the one who died and hollowfied on my own. I wasn’t born with some fuckin’ mutt gift,” Grimmjow growled, eyes darkening with despondency and anger.

“That’s what you don’t seem to understand you asshole! I don’t feel anything! I can’t feel anything anymore!”

Without a beat Grimmjow was melting the ice that seemed to have made a home beneath his skin with a gaze so empathetic and knowing that Ichigo wasn’t sure he was actually staring at the former sexta espada anymore, “Then maybe you’re just drowning,”

Ichigo stared at him with such a floored expression, he was sure he was catching flies. Had he really let himself become so overwhelmed that he was unknowingly inviting unadulterated numbness to saturate his system? Was the espada really the one making more sense than him? Curling back into himself and settling back against the wall, Ichigo dropped his head into his hands. He was an idiot, a complete moron doomed to this world as a harbinger of ignorance. How had he been so stupid? He was the catalyst to his own destruction. Was it not him who had willingly surrendered to the invading and devastating presence of his hollow? No wonder the voice in his head was so cocky- Ichigo’s stewing over-emotional nature had been making total dominion easy for the albino male. He was truly an imbecile.

Muffled through rust colored fingertips, Ichigo finally addressed the espada, “I’m sorry,” He started, “I almost killed the people I’d tried so hard to protect. Everything I lived for was just ripped out from under my feet, and not only that, I have to look in the mirror every day for the rest of time reminded of the monster that I am. I’m acting like an asshole. A big dumb ginger asshole, and I’m sorry, okay? You’re just trying to help and I keep pushing you away, and that’s not right. This whole situation is so unreal that I should realistically be gawking at the fact that you’re not trying to coax me into battle,” Ichigo laughed, really laughed for the first time since his world had turned upside town, “Seems like the tables sure have turned. Who knew I’d turn into the volatile dickhead rejecting advances of friendship,”

Grimmjow snorted, the bed dipping under his weight as he sat down. “Never said I was advancing to friendship or any shit like that, but whatever. I guess it would be stupid to argue with you, so sure. Let’s call whatever this is _friendship_ ,” His warm palm was now rested on Ichigo’s knee in an amiable gesture, “Truce? At least until we iron out all this stupid hollow-taking-over shit?”

Ichigo lifted his head to meet the espada’s uncharacteristically warm gaze,, Giving him a sad sunflower smile, he nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah. Truce,”

Silence passed like eons between the pair, the warmth of Grimmjow’s hand practically burning a hole in the only remaining garment that hung on Ichigo’s aching body. He was painfully aware of the palm that sat there, eyeing it suspiciously every time the espada’s gaze locked elsewhere. Absentmindedly, Grimmjow’s thumb began to rub soothingly against the soft milky fabric and Ichigo’s face heated what felt like 10 whole degrees. Sure they’d just called a truce, but was this _okay_ ? As soporific and welcome the movements were, something about it felt distinctly. . . _romantic_.  Was the arrancar really oblivious to what he was doing?

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Ichigo spoke up. “Do you have a brush?”

“What?”

“A brush? You know, people use them to untangle their hair?” The ginger ran his fingers through his hair in demonstration, only for the tips of his fingers to get caught in the tangled sea of orange before he could comb all the way through. A quiet curse fell from his lips. “No wonder I always kept my hair so short. I can’t deal with all this knotted shit,”

Curious as a cat, Grimmjow leaned forward and mirrored his motions, burying his fingers in fiery strands. He ran his hand through the tangled waves until his fingertips were matted in with the knots. When he was firmly coiled around the soft hair, he pulled, yanking Ichigo’s head violently sideways with the rough movement.

“Ow!” Ichigo shrieked, “You fuckass- don’t pull! That hurts!”

Tears had begun to gather in the corner of Ichigo’s eyes as he rubbed pacifying circles into his scalp. Grimmjow could’ve stabbed him right then and there and he was sure it would’ve felt the same. Gaze still curious and questioning, Grimmjow stared at him in genuine bewildered remorse, “That usually works for me,” He paused , retreating his fingers to shrug, “A brush huh? I’m sure Nelliel will have one with that thick fuckin’ mane of hair she’s got. I’ll go if you want me to take you over there,”

Ichigo instantly tensed. Casting a hesitant glance downwards at his poorly wrapped midsection, he wasn’t sure if his body could physically handle getting crushed by Nel’s inhuman embrace. Grimmjow seemed to understand, snorting a laugh as Ichigo weighed his options, “Just tell her to fuck off Kurosaki, she won’t kill you for wanting personal space,”

Eyes instantly narrowing into slits, Ichigo replied with a stiff middle finger. “Just help me up asshole. My head hurts now and I need to get these tangles out before I have to shave my head. I’d rather look like Rangiku than Ikkaku,”

Grimmjow almost silently huffed a laugh at Ichigo’s weak attempt at humor and begun to heave the boy up, resting his arm across his shoulders as he gripped onto his bare waist. “Sorry I couldn’t do more,” The espada mumbled, leading Ichigo out into the dim corridor, “I’m no voluptuous healer chick, but I know a thing or two about survival. Maybe Nelliel will have some antiseptics or some shit to help that hurt less,”

Casting his gaze down at the rows of candles that lined the halls, Ichigo tried to hide his smile. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was an insufferable and miserable excuse for a living creature most of the time, casting an indifferent and intolerable glare at everyone and everything, but somehow the same gentle and caring foul-mouthed _man_ that was supporting his weight was one in the same. It was surreal, giving the ginger a perspective he never knew he needed. The Gotei taught furiously that the arrancar were the enemy, that they were beings bent on animalistic instinct and blood-lust solely, and though Grimmjow definitely fit the bill when he was in the wrong mood, the composure and, dare he say, _grace_ , that he was carrying himself with showed Ichigo that perhaps he really was picking sides when he cut down Aizen’s army. Aizen needed to be stopped and that was a fact, but why did the arrancar have to be punished with him? Surely the Gotei could’ve offered them a deal and made peace, but instead they’d just single handedly gone straight to slaughter.

“I’m sorry too,” Ichigo finally spoke, being turned down into another long hallway, “You were right before, when we were fighting. I guess I did sort of look down on you in a way. The head captain was so fervent about calling you guys a bunch of assholes that I couldn’t really see you guys as anything but lower beings. That shit wasn’t right,” The grip on Ichigo’s waist tightened ever so slightly, “During our last battle five years ago, something changed in me that I just now realized. You guys aren’t mindless beasts, you’re as human as we are, just built on completely different principles. So really, I’m sorry that I helped the Gotei destroy your home,”

With now trembling fingertips holding him in place, Grimmjow feigned indifference with a casual shrug, “It’s whatever,” He started, turning Ichigo down one final corridor, “Las Noches wasn’t really my home anyway, so I don’t really give a shit. It’s not like they were my family or some dumb shit like that. We were an expendable military force bent on killing the shinigami, but we never expected a little punk with orange hair would end up murdering all of us,” The espada laughed, bracing Ichigo tighter against his side as he shook with the ripples of the humor, “Who knew the bastard you were trying to kill would be the animal licking your wounds?”

Ichigo frowned bumping against him roughly, “Hey dickhead, I’m not a punk,” He tried to keep his harsh tone, but as Grimmjow continued to shake with laughter, he couldn’t help but slip into a fit of hysterics himself, “ _Stop that!_ You’re making me laugh dumbass!”

Grimmjow bumped his hips roughly back, “Yeah? What’re you going to do about it _punk_?”

Recoiling for one last shove, Ichigo bumped the espada back, only for his knee to give at the very end. Grip weakened from the humor, Grimmjow was unprepared as Ichigo began to fall, so when the ginger gripped onto messy cerulean locks in a desperate attempt to stay upright, the espada began to tumble down with him. Righting himself at the very last second, Grimmjow now had Ichigo stood with his bare back braced against cold marble, staring into his wild cinnamon eyes as the ginger’s breath ghosted across his lips. They were pressed into a precarious position; Grimmjow’s palm was splayed against the wall directly right of Ichigo’s head, his left hand brushing against the bone of his hips as Ichigo’s right hand remained tangled in bright blue strands, pulling the espada entirely too close for level-headed comfort.

Their lips were centimeters away, but neither of them dared break the intense gaze they shared. Inhaling deeply, Grimmjow almost shivered in pleasure as he detected the faint smell of menthol on the ginger’s breath. It was mind numbing and intoxicating, sending a euphoric high through the espada’s system for reasons unknown. Leaning forward with every intent to drown in the warm aroma, he watched Ichigo’s eyes flutter closed as he pushed himself closer to Grimmjow ever so slightly. A thumb dug into the ginger’s hip bone in anticipation, sending a shudder up his spine. Lips became closer and closer until-

“Is that Ichigo?! I feel Ichigo! Where is he!?” High pitched and cheery, Nel’s voice carried strongly down the corridor.

Like a cat being scared out of it’s skin, the espada detached himself from Ichigo so violently that the ginger ended up sliding down the wall and straight onto his ass, hissing in pain when a candle was knocked sideways and wax was poured across his ankle. Staring into cheery green eyes, Grimmjow shot out his arm in panic and pointed at Ichigo, “Shinigami!” His arm trembled slightly as Ichigo started up at him with a look of pure undiluted disbelief, “I found a shinigami!”

Ichigo couldn’t even question what had just transpired before he was knocked sideways, now fully against the floor in a mess of male and female limbs as Nel held him in death’s embrace. Rubbing her warm cheek to his in affectionate pride, the tall girl smiled, “Oh Ichigo!! I’ve missed you so much!”

Loosening her death grip slightly, Ichigo coughed in retaliation before he spoke in a weakened voice, “Nel- let go. Can’t. . breathe,”

“Oh!” She yelped, releasing the ginger and sitting back on her knees. Rubbing the back of her neck guiltily she gave him an apologetic smile, “Sorry Ichi, forgot my strength there for a minute. So what brings you here? Is kitty giving you a hard time?”

Unable to look at the blue menace in fear for the color of his face, he ran his fingers through his tangled strands of sunny hair in demonstration. “It’s a long story, but I was wondering if you had a brush? My hair’s never been this long and I need to fix it before it gets any worse,”

“Of course! C’mon!” She raved in childish excitement. Lifting him to his feet almost effortlessly, she ignored the bandages on his waist as she dragged him further down the corridor and away from the flustered espada. “I’ll brush your hair and make you look super nice!”

Hesitantly, Ichigo nodded and let himself be pulled along. Before he was out of sight, he cast a questioning glance behind him at Grimmjow, swearing that he could see his fingers pressed to his lips in wonder before he was gone in a burst of sonido. He wasn’t sure what had come over the two of them, especially considering their status as truced enemies only being established a mere half hour ago, but the horror sank even deeper as he realized he wasn’t disgusted by what had almost happened. In fact, he was a little. . . _disappointed_ . **_What the fuck was happening?_ **


	3. Submerged In My Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a week? Gasp, I'm on a roll bay-bay!! No. but really, I've been in a good place for writing, so getting through both of these chapters was surprisingly easy for me ^^ Happy White Day! Here's a semi-sweet chapter for you guys <3
> 
> Here are the songs for this chapter! (Certain songs will be marked with either Ichi or Grimm's name from now on, just to clarify which perspective they're coming from :')) )
> 
> Submerge - Movements  
> Gum - Moose Blood (Ichigo)  
> Knuckles - Moose Blood (Grimmjow)  
> Can You Feel My Heart - Bring Me The Horizon
> 
> Enjoy!

Rough bristles scratched against Ichigo’s head gently, working through and untangling 24 hours worth of matted hair. Rolling his head back with each tug of the brush, he practically moaned, the soft ministrations lulling him into a state of total nirvana. It was a lot of hair to get through- a task that would easily frustrate and overwhelm him- but Nel kept at it like a doting mother, brushing out each fiery strand with tender care. Ichigo hummed in appreciation, the affirmative sound drawing an elated feminine giggle from the girl behind him as she softly worked out a particularly rough knot near the ends of his hair.

Perched on a plush pillow in front of Nel, euphoria danced through the ensemble of emotions Ichigo was feeling. Memories of school nights when his mother would groom him post bathing invaded his thoughts, making his smile drop ever so slightly. He missed the days when everything had been simpler, when his only worry had been being beaten up by Tatsuki at the dojo. No hollow clinging to his soul threatening to destroy everything he’d cared for, just a rough little girl who was infuriatingly good at karate. He huffed a laugh, reminded of all the times he’d cry after taking a beating, followed by all the love and affection his mother could give. She was truly the center of his world.

Feeling the tense in his shoulders, Nel paused her brushing for a second to lean forward and wrap her arms around him. “It’s okay Ichi,” She cooed, letting her warm breath tickle his ear, “Whatever happened, it’ll all be okay. Love is a hard thing to kill,”

Turning around to face her, Ichigo frowned, “How do you mean?”

She beamed a soft smile as she looked into his eyes, the tenderness she exuded wrapping Ichigo in a warmth he’d long since lost. “Whatever is making you sad I mean. Obviously it has to do with the people you love or you would’ve found a way to fix it already right? A problem is much easier to solve when it can’t think for itself,” She giggled, “So your problem must obviously be with people! But what you don’t realize Ichi, is that love is a hard thing to kill. No matter what happens, in the end there will always be love there. Love is stronger than your mistakes, so whatever happened, don’t be so hard on yourself okay?”

Nearly stunned out of his skin by the kindness and intelligence of Nel’s words, Ichigo sat in shocked silence for a few moments. When he finally spoke up, his voice wavered slightly, “What if the problem is _me?_ ” He asked, tearing his gaze away from loving pools of olive green.

“The problem is only you when you make it that way Ichi,” Nel chided, giving him a smack to the back of the head, “I know you, and because I know you, I know that you have a habit of making everything your fault, even when it’s not. That’s not healthy Ichigo, and it makes me really sad. You’re the only one that ever blames yourself, so cut it out,”

A tender moment in the rain was sprung in Ichigo’s memory, burning his eyes with oncoming tears. _‘Why. . . Why are you smiling? Why won’t anyone blame me?! I couldn’t do anything. . . not a thing. Not when mom died, not now either! Why is it nobody blames me?! It’s so hard! It’d be easier if you guys all blamed me!_

_‘Why blame you? If I were to blame Masaki's death on you, Masaki would get mad at me. It's not anyone's fault that Masaki died. It's just that, the woman I fell in love with was a woman who could die protecting her son. And don't forget, you are the guy the woman that I loved gave her life to protect.’_

Words spoken to him by his father 6 years ago forced a sad smile onto his face. He chuckled softly. “Maybe you’re right Nel. I do that a lot don’t I?” She nodded in affirmation, “I’m sorry. I should’ve considered your feelings-”

Trying to apologize for his ignorance, Ichigo was stopped by another rough smack against his head, “There you go again Ichi! Stop it! No more apologizing. I’m not angry, and neither is anyone else, so stop saying sorry to all of us, okay?”

Afraid of losing more brain cells to Nel’s unyielding hand of justice, Ichigo nodded. “Alright, fine, but can I ask you something really quick?” She nodded, offering him her full attention, “Before you force me to stop apologizing, I need to know, have I ever done anything to make _Grimmjow_ hate me? If I have, I need to say I’m sorry before it’s too late,”

Nel quirked a lime eyebrow, “Grimmjow? What does that matter? I thought he wanted to kill you. Him hating you should be the least of your worries,”

Ichigo’s face burned under her questioning gaze, “I don’t really know to be honest. We’re in some sort of truce, but I don’t feel like I deserve his kindness. I’ve been such an asshole,”

The female arrancar cocked her head in confusion. “ _Kindness_? Are you sure you’re talking about Grimmjow?”

Cradling his head in his hands, Ichigo huffed out a sigh in preparation for the reaction he knew he was about to get. Keeping his eyes looking anywhere but at Nel, he finally spoke, “Don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely an asshole, but when you get past his hard exterior he’s not all that bad. There are moments when he’s all alone where you get a peek at the real him, as if he’s just a good guy trapped in an asshole, ya know?” He paused, shuffling nervously in his seat, “The shitty side of him is super shitty, but he’s really decent when you get right down to it. I don’t know. I know I’m rambling and shit, but _fuck,_ I just feel like I need to say sorry. Or something? Ugh, forget it, it’s not like he’d accept it. _Would he?_ ”

There was about four seconds of absolute radio silence until Nel’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Ichigo could swear he could see stars twinkling in those childish eyes, but they were completely eclipsed when he was wrestled to the ground and into the bear hug of all bear hugs. He squirmed and pushed, trying to find his way out of the cuddle puddle of cooing prodding, but he knew resistance was futile. The arrancar woman was going to squeeze the life out of him, and in retrospect, he supposed this was as good a way to go as any.

“ _What the fuck_?” The familiar drawl came from the doorway, stopping Nel in her affectionate murderous tracks, “If you two wanna be alone or some shit, I can scram,”

Realizing how suggestive his position was- pinned half naked under an attractive full figured female- his face flushed through the whole ruby hued color spectrum. Before the blue-haired arrancar could exit, Nel called out to him, begging him to stay for a while. Though he raised an eyebrow at her in suspicion at first, he obeyed, keeping himself far from the pair of them as they shuffled on the floor trying to figure out whose limbs belonged to who.

Once things settled down, Ichigo repositioned himself, letting Nel redo the areas of his hair she’d re-tangled. A few meters away Grimmjow stood tapping his foot, the scowl of feral impatience that danced across his features making him look like a dejected animal. Was he as conflicted about the almost kiss as Ichigo was? Was he even thinking about it? The ginger inwardly groaned, berating himself for even meditating on it. He had more important things to worry about; Rukia’s large intestine slipping through the space between his fingers, Orihime’s silent shriek of terror as she stared into his unhollowfied eyes, the taunting words spoken from the inner recesses of his soul from the parasite devouring him from the inside out, anything but his over-emotional nature clinging onto something to stop his vice.

Absentmindedly, Ichigo reached for his pocket, only to curse himself when he remembered he wasn’t in his human body. _Fuck._ Kon was probably having a field day with his secret stash of happy pills, while he sat in Las Noches, confined like goddamn Rapunzel as Nel worked through his knotted hair. It was no secret that Ichigo had a moderate addiction to xanax, especially from his father, who cast worried glances in his direction when he thought Ichigo wasn’t looking, but to be in a foreign world without his fix would be hard. It would be near impossible for him to sleep on his own without the substance, the nightmares and trauma from the two wars already enough to keep him up at night without the added angst of his inner hollow trying to dismantle him from the inside out. He didn’t even know _where_ he’d be sleeping, let alone how it would happen. Was he even allowed to stay here?

“Hey Grimmjow,” Nel called, ripping Ichigo from his spiraling thoughts, “My arms are tired, come finish his hair for me,”

Both Ichigo and Grimmjow snapped their heads towards Nel alarmingly fast, coaxing a giggle from her throat as she held her brush out to the moody espada. Eyeing it with barely hidden curiosity, the arrancar snorted, “Go to hell. I don’t give a shit if your arms get so tired they fall off, I don’t wanna brush the brat’s hair,” He paused, taking his time in nailing the female with a disgusted snarl, “It’s not my fuckin’ problem,”

As if she’d already predicted his violent aversion to her request, she spent no time in unsheathing her zanpakuto. Grabbing what she could of Ichigo’s hair, she positioned Gamuza at the base of his neck in warning. The ginger yelped in pain, Grimmjow’s scowl softening ever so slightly. “Well that’s a shame, I guess if you won’t help me brush it, I’ll have to cut _allllll_ of it off,” Tightening her grip to further prove her point, she coaxed another wounded moan from Ichigo, “Such a shame, I’m sure he’ll miss it. _Oh well!_ ”

Poising her sword to slice, Grimmjow had her wrist caught in milliseconds. “Give me the fuckin’ brush you drama queen, and _let go_ of his shitty hair,”

Being released almost immediately, Ichigo slumped forward with a sigh of relief. His scalp burned, ripples of pain still washing over his nerves in the aftereffect as Nel slipped Gamuza back into the scabbard at her waist. Brushing her lips against the side of his head in a chaste kiss, she hummed happily. “You’ll thank me later Ichi,”

Cryptic and confusing, Nel’s words buzzed in his head like a fresh riddle. Thank her? What could he possibly thank her for that he hadn’t already? Opening his mouth to inquire, he was met with a rushed wave and the smell of her lilac perfume as she ran past him and out the door. Where she could possibly be going, he had no clue, but being left in the room with an agitated arrancar with dominion over his hair was more than foreboding, and soon he’d wished that she _had_ squished him to death with her love.

Even if he was no longer required to comply to Nel’s request now that she was absent, Grimmjow took a seat behind Ichigo and began to roughly brush through his tangled mess of knots, only stopping his violent ministrations when the ginger yelped in pain as the bristles caught, yanking his head back with fervor. “Ow!” He cried, “Didn’t you learn anything from earlier jackass? That fucking hurts!”

Grimmjow huffed, giving the ginger a rough shove forward,, “Fuck off _princess_ , if I’ve gotta brush your stupid hair I’m going to do it as I please,”

Crossing his arms over his chest and raising with an exaggerated huff, Ichigo was up and walking towards the exit, completely and entirely already fed up with Grimmjow’s piss ass attitude. He took it all back- Grimmjow was just a hot headed dick. Sure he’d shown Ichigo shreds of decency earlier that afternoon, day, or night- whatever time it was in this deserted eternally darkened world- but the way his personality changed at the flip of a switch was nothing less than grating on Ichigo’s last nerve. His head hurt, the roots of his hair sick of being abused by the arrancar’s rough strokes, igniting the small bloom of a headache right beneath the surface of his skull. He was calling quits- maybe if he was lucky enough he’d run into Nel again so he could beg her to take him in until he got this whole hollow nonsense under control. He didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with his own bullshit, let alone Grimmjow’s.

With a rough tug, Ichigo found himself floundering as he fell backwards into a pair of warm arms. The smell of sweet summer rain assaulted his senses as those warm arms wrapped around his body loosely, tugging him in that much closer. With lips pursed inches from his ear, Grimmjow let out a small calming sigh. “I’m sorry,” His forehead met the mess of Ichigo’s bright hair as he used his extra couple inches of height to rest on him, “I’m just really fucked up right now. I don’t mean to be a fuckin’ psycho, but being around you kind of does that shit to me,”

Ichigo frowned in annoyance, “Gee thanks, you really know how to make a guy feel good about himself,” The sarcasm drifted off his tongue in venomous waves, the arrancar's affectionate display not completely selling him quite yet, “Just let go of me. Obviously you don’t want to be here, so go back to your room. I’ll find Nel and bunk with her or whatever. You won’t have to see me again,”

Strong arms tightened around him, the faint aroma of eucalyptus finally surrounding him in a cooling breeze as he took in the full scent of the arrancar. With an exasperated inhale, Grimmjow spoke again, “That’s not what I meant dipshit,” He started, “I just meant that I don’t know how to _deal_ with you. You don’t know anything about me, so stop assuming I want you out of my sight alright? It’s fucking annoying,”

Ichigo bristled. Didn’t know anything about him? Sure he didn’t know the espada personally, but he could read the context clues that he’d laid out for him. Between all of the snarling and the fighting and the death threats, it was pretty goddamn obvious that Grimmjow didn’t like him. Either that or his parents had skipped the crucial step of teaching him how to be a member of society and not a feral animal. The ginger let out a humorless laugh, “Is that right? Well if you seem so bold on your claims that I don’t know shit about you, then why don’t you stop acting like you give a _shit_ about me!”

Trying to yank the espada’s arms free, Ichigo only found himself wound tighter into the embrace, his bare back pressed firmly against the cold zipper of a jumpsuit. “Would you cut it the fuck out?” Grimmjow sneered, “I’m trying to have a decent fuckin’ conversation with you! Why are you so fuckin’ defensive?!”

Ichigo spun around, nailing the espada with a cold livid gaze. Trying to ignore the warm breath hitting his nose and sending pleasant shivers down his spine, he spoke in a harsh tone, making sure the arrancar understood every poisonous word, “Defensive?! Look, I don’t understand what you’re playing at _Grimmjow,_ but I have had it up to _here_ with the last 24 hours of my life and you are _not_ help-” Pausing abruptly to stare at the hooded eyes and parted lips that seemed to be coming closer, Ichigo squirmed harder in the grip, abandoning the tangent he was going on. “What are you _doing?!_ Didn’t we just figure out how much of a mistake this was? Why are you even doing this?” The espada’s face wouldn’t stop inching closer, and in a last ditch effort to preserve his purity and sanity, Ichigo grabbed his face, squeaking out the espada's name in an octave he wasn’t sure he’d ever reached, “ ** _Grimmjow. . !_** ”

Almost like being slapped out of a trance, Grimmjow’s hooded eyes narrowed impossibly further as he trained his gaze on Ichigo’s panicked palms, “Your breath,” He husked, voice as smooth as velvet as his eyes darted lower to the ginger’s parted lips.

Letting out a noise that he’d later admit sounded either like a deflating balloon or a mass murder of lemmings, Ichigo shrank lower, turning multiple shades of brilliant crimson as cerulean eyes picked him apart. “What about it you psychopath?” He squeaked, “ _You shouldn’t even be close enough to know I’m breathing!_ ”

Grimmjow lowered his head, deeply inhaling whatever scent he thought he was picking up on, forcing Ichigo to lean away to preserve whatever personal space he had left. It was intimate- Way too intimate of a moment to be shared between two truced enemies. At this proximity the ginger began noticing things he hadn’t before, like the way the other’s hair dipped further below his neckline than the last time they’d met, like the two freckles on his neck and the one barely hidden by the bone fragment on his face, like the way he made the ginger’s heart beat impossibly fast as he drowned in the imagined feeling of their lips tangled together- le baiser de la morte surely. An act so daring and so profound shared between the two of them would either be a beautiful death or a harmonious rebirth, but as azure eyes pierced him with pure animal instinct, he wasn’t sure he’d survive long enough to find out.

“Menthol,” Grimmjow practically purred, voice low and sensual as he drank in Ichigo’s features, “Your breath smells like menthol, Kurosaki. _Why?_ You got some sort of cough drop fetish or something?”

The ginger’s eyebrow shot into his hairline as incredulity marred his agitated expression. Had he heard the arrancar right? Menthol? Cough drops? What the fuck was going on?. “A _what_ kink? You’re _so_ fucking weird. _Cigarettes_. I smoke menthol cigarettes you maniac,”

This time it was Grimmjow’s turn to raise a thin sky blue eyebrow, “Cigarettes? You _smoke_ ?” He let out a breathy laugh, sending electrics shivers down the shinigami’s spine. “Didn’t peg you as the type to engage in such _non-heroic_ activities. You seem like the type to run one of those ‘crack is whack’ seminars, not the type to smoke your way into one,”

Wriggling his arm up between them, Ichigo was quick to shove a middle finger in Grimmjow’s smug face. Pulling an unamused scowl, he begun to try and break the arrancar’s hold on him once more. “First of all, fuck you. Second of all, cigarettes are far from hard drugs. I’m not some fucking crackhead, but then again, that just shows how much you know about me,” A chuckle escaped his lips, “Stop _assuming._ It’s _annoying_ ,” The sarcastic indignation in Ichigo’s voice had Grimmjow’s playful smirk widening tenfold, the butterfly shivers from his spine now fluttering in his chest. “Now will you please let go of me? My hair is still half of a jungle and I’d really like to get it under control _this_ millennium,”

Tilting his chin upwards, Grimmjow had a hold of Ichigo before he could struggle. Inches separated their lips, their unfinished business from earlier fresh in their minds as warm honey met icy blue in a gaze so intense it’s ferocity could rival fresh magma. Fingers tangled in soft orange strands as a thin bare torso melted against the arrancar. This time there was no Nel to interrupt them. If Grimmjow just closed the distance ever so slowly. . .

As if a fog had settled over his mind and shifted him into autopilot, Ichigo found himself gripping the espada’s biceps in unbridled fear. Like the sound of an old tv being turned on, an electric shock shot through his body, lighting his every cell aflame. A dull buzzing had begun to hum in his head, the cancerous carnal desire to destroy clouding his judgment. The static drone begun to spread like a plague, settling deep below the skin and reminding him of the beast that he held within. It was almost instantaneous; The fear that tore through his body nearly knocking him off his feet. The flowers that had begun to grow in his heart wilted, shrinking down and dying as the roots and thorns of his inner hollow killed away all the happiness he’d been able to salvage.

It was never meant to be. Every time he’d found some small semblance of happiness it’d been ripped out from under him like a rug beneath his tired feet. There was absolutely no denying it now- Grimmjow had some sort of thing for him and like he’d believed so many times in the past, he apparently had a thing for the arrancar as well. Enemies so driven by the need to hate and one-up each other that they’d inevitably fallen in love. Screw the near death tragic hero comparison he’d made yesterday- this whole Montague Capulet nonsense was one hundred percent Shakespeare. Why did his life always have to follow the guidelines of a centuries old tragedy?

Vision blurring and buzzing around the edges, his head alternated between a throbbing dull ache and a head splitting electricity as the voice in his head became louder. It was as if his joints had ceased up, his grip on Grimmjow’s upper arms the only thing anchoring him to reality. His voice became trapped and closed off, and soon all of him was beginning to follow. He was becoming a firefly trapped in a jar- endlessly fluttering his wings in attempted escape against the invisible barrier that confined him. Now that he’d begun to understand how he’d felt toward the arrancar, he couldn’t let this happen. He _wouldn’t_ let this happen.

Voice creaking and splintering like ages old rotted wood, he began to speak. “You need to get out of here. _Now_ ,” His ironclad grip was hard to loosen, but once he was able to pry the arrancar’s skin from his shaking fingertips, he was quick to put him at an arm’s length. Inky black begun to dance behind his irises, threatening to take control and decimate anything in reach of its talons. A shrewd laugh echoed inside his ears, almost bringing the ginger to his knees. Was he too late?

Pleasure lidded oceans hardened into concerned ice as Grimmjow studied him. Solid cerulean swept over him trying to understand the sudden chill that seemed to cocoon them in their own private blizzard. “What the fuck Kurosaki? What’s going on?” Negativity bit in the undertones of his questioning voice, but Ichigo couldn’t find it in himself to pay it any mind. He was crumbling, practically turning into dust at the arrancar's feet, inverting and becoming a dangerous phoenix born from the ashes of his despair. If he lost control, if he turned right now- would Grimmjow survive?

Ichigo’s brain was full to capacity, calculating and formulating every way out, every escape route to avoid causing even more emotional damage. He wasn’t apt to handle all of this- his brain was already moving sluggish as it was. His psyche was water-logged, clogged with so many festering fears and desires that he felt like he was being dragged beneath the harsh waves of hollowfication much quicker than before. His thoughts were murky, the black haze taking over and practically erasing his ability to form coherent thoughts. It felt like forever until he could formulate a response for the arrancar.

“Hollow,” The ginger ground out from between clenched teeth, “You need to _go_ ,”

Grimmjow scoffed, planting a warm hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. “Kurosaki, you seem to forget I’m an espada. I took you out last time you went bat-shit and I’ll do it again. Calm down,”

Venomous cinnamon eyes bore into the arrancar as his carefree smirk shrunk from his face entirely. The buzzing at the edges of his vision had begun to blur further inward, distorting the world around him and forcing him to stare at Grimmjow through the haze of tunnel vision. The longer he pinned the blue idiot with his glare, the more out of body his experience was becoming. Awash with fear and practically pinned down by the dread chilling his bones, bitter petrified tears begun soaking his warm cheeks. He wasn’t usually so weak- never had he ever been this rattled by something out of his control, yet here he stood, practically already rehearsing the five stages of grief before he’d even had time to turn.

With a rough shove to the arrancar’s chest, Ichigo was crumbling to the ground in a heap of helplessness. “I- _he_ \- killed Ulquiorra!” He sputtered out, the buzzing in his head becoming deafening in his ears, “I don’t care how tough you might think you are, you need to get the fuck out of here! I don’t want to kill you Gri-”

Words lodged in his throat, suspended in time and lost to the stale air of Las Noches as his body seized function. Arms hung like weights at his sides, his crumpled legs unfeeling against the marble floors. He was becoming a puppet- a marionette whose strings belonged exclusively to that malicious parasite that fed on his discomfort. He was bound, mind and body, and pushed to do whatever bidding was wanted of him and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t cut the strings that tied him to his puppeteer; No matter how much he struggled he was only tangled further into the disgusting bond that kept their consciousnesses linked. He was powerless once again, feeling his insides fill with a fire that wasn’t his.

Watching the life quite literally drain from warm honey eyes, Grimmjow found his chest squeezed with a raw animal feeling he hadn’t felt in eons. The sexta espada wasn’t a caring person- he didn’t believe in love or any of the tender overly human emotions Ichigo seemed to cling to, but ever since he’d met the orange-haired menace he’d begun to feel infected by the boy’s humanity. An unexpected need to claim, to obtain and lock away the shinigami had taken over his mind like a plague, a sickness he hadn’t felt since he was alive and one he surely hadn’t missed. As much as he’d tried to explain it away as purely feral lust, the look of defeat and death that danced under dark feathered eyelashes tugged at parts of his splintered sanity that he couldn’t ignore.

Cupping cold sun-kissed cheeks in his agitated palms, Grimmjow practically forced Ichigo’s attention into his cerulean eyes. “Don’t you disappear on me Kurosaki,” He started, trepidation dripping from his lips, “We’re going to find a way to work through this and you’re going to be just fuckin’ fine, you hear me? You’re not a fuckin’ hollow, no matter what that piece of shit tells you. You feel things- you want to protect people, you have morals and likes and dislikes. You complain and you have a really shit ass attitude- you stress yourself out worrying about human shit all the time- you drive me fuckin’ insane- but that’s you! Human, emotional, annoying ass Ichigo, okay?”

The ginger’s eyes brightened slightly, but the flame that Grimmjow’s words had ignited was snuffed out just as quickly as it had come. Ichigo wanted to reach out, he wanted to pull himself from the quicksand he was being submerged in but his limbs wouldn’t respond. He was a limp shell, the carcass of what he once was, barely hanging on to his sense of self as his hollow’s eager hands pulled him deeper. He was tethered to reality by a mere thread as the whites of his eyes turned obsidian, the mask already threatening to form around the espada’s warm fingers that still held his face gently.

Ichigo’s eyes finally closed, welcoming the darkness as his soul was forced inward and away from Grimmjow’s steady warmth. He was swimming in a vast sea of unconsciousness, no deity looking out for him. Unable to feel anything, he was left drifting in the unknown until he was immersed in a familiar sea- one that he hadn’t seen in 5 years. The buildings around him were still modest, never fully returning to the skyscrapers that once stretched towards the skies and towered over him. He knew exactly where he was, but the burning question was _why._ Last time his hollow had taken over, he’d been sucked into the inbetween, the vague space that filled the chasm between reality and this inner world, so how had he ended up here? Searching the seemingly empty rooftop for the answers he’d coveted, he came face to face with the all too familiar burn of golden sclera eyes. Shrinking backwards in frightened cautiousness, he was met with a crooked smile filled with pure arrogance.

“Hello _King_ ,” He mocked, stalking closer ever so slowly until he could tilt Ichigo’s chin up with a pale fingertip, “ _I think it’s time we had a talk_ ,”


	4. The Song That The Caged Bird Sings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter is completely off schedule and I apologize lol My health has been really shitty the last few weeks and I haven't been well enough to really focus too much on my writing, but here it finally is! As I post this I actually have the next 2 chapters half finished, so you can expected regular updates to be back on schedule ^^
> 
> The songs for this chapter are as follows <3 :  
> Nerve Endings - Too Close To Touch  
> Paralyzed - NF  
> White Noise - Badflower  
> Falling Skies - YungBlud

Held in place by a single finger, Ichigo felt a shiver of unbridled fear shudder down the length of his spine. Gold eyes bore into him, reading his every flaw, picking apart his every sin and discovering all of his hidden feelings and desires. The weight of eyes unraveled him, tugging loose every string that kept him coiled together. He felt naked, like his entire being- his entire  _ soul _ \- was being bared for his inner hollow to scrutinize and study. Honey eyes cast downward, he averted his gaze in discomfort, wishing that the torturous silence would be broken soon.

Kneeling before him, the snowy male gave him a sad smile, an assembly of muscles that relentlessly tugged on Ichigo’s heartstrings. The ginger cautiously raised an eyebrow. Why was he showing sadness? Isn’t this what he had wanted? To have Ichigo completely terrified and at his mercy- in his own dominion no less, shouldn’t he have been celebrating? Taunting him? Ridiculing him? 

“I’m sorry King, but I need you to trust to me,” His soft voice cut through the tension, sending soft sparks through the skin beneath a pale fingertip, “I don’t want to take over your body, you don’t have to fear me,”

Ichigo snorted in disbelief, completely disregarding the nauseating fear sitting in his gut. Didn’t want to take over? He already had! What bullshit was he spewing? “Excuse me?” Ichigo started, nailing the hollow with a cinnamon glare of pure disdain, “Last time I checked, _you_ took control from me against my will and let me _ watch _ as you carved out Rukia’s fucking insides! How  _ could _ I trust you?!” 

Golden eyes rolled, the annoyance painted across his milky features painfully obvious. “I wouldn’t have ever been able to get close to you otherwise. With that shinigami brat in the way I was never able to come forward. Everything I did was for  _ your _ benefit,” 

A tide of quiet fury was brewing beneath Ichigo’s skin, a fire beginning to rage and consume him as inverted eyes stared right through him. Red tinted the edges of his vision, burning and bubbling across his eyes and daring him to move. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, the memories of slimy guts ghosting the tips of trembling fingers causing him to swallow the bile rising in his throat. He’d been scared at first, entering this foreign familiar world after five whole years, but being reminded of the amount he’d suffered the past couple days- the amount he’d wanted to end his own life just because of something that the male before him had forced was more than a good enough incentive to slip into a blind rage. 

Before knuckles itching for a fight could find ivory flesh, a soft hand entangled in his hair, pulling him close and into the arms of the other, smothering him against a mirrored bare chest. Ichigo’s rage thudded against his skull, a dull hum now beneath his skin. The hollow was cold, pale flesh encompassed by a deadly chill that was as puzzling as it was comforting. Grimmjow was never this cold, but then again Grimmjow had never made him feel this murderous before. A calm voice broke through the silence. “I never wanted to take control of you Ichigo. I needed you on edge- I needed you nervous,  _ terrified _ even, just so you’d operate on pure instinct,” He paused for a second, letting Ichigo’s diluted sanity slowly take in his words, “You’re acting like I’m out to get you, like I’m ruining your life, but we both  _ know _ all I’ve done is push you to take the road you would’ve never traveled otherwise. You belong  _ here _ , you belong surrounded by people like me- people like Nelliel and Grimmjow. You aren’t meant for the Gotei, you aren’t meant for aimlessly carrying out their orders like a naive little lamb to the slaughter. You’re  _ more _ than that- just  _ trust me _ and let me teach you how to surpass them. Let me teach you how to break free from the Gotei’s chains,”

Ichigo had heard it all before, at this point he’d lost track of all the opponents that had fed him the same anti-Gotei propaganda, coaxing and goading until they felt he’d drift to their side of the battlefield, but he never took the bait. It was just a shiny carrot on a stick, a way to fuel rage and build doubt in his brain, a way to ultimately use him for his powers and label him a traitor all the same. He didn’t care about politics, about the way things had been run for thousands of years before him, all he’d cared about were the people that had cared for him, but now thanks to the hollow that held him, he couldn’t even rely on that affection anymore. Everything was misplaced, unruly and scattered between the lines of fear, betrayal and confusion, and he was in the arms of the one to blame. Feeling his knuckles turning white under the strain of the familiar lividity burning inside of him, he struggled against the affectionate grip. “ _ No fucking thank you _ ,” He ground through a clenched jaw, “It’s because of  _ you _ I hurt the people I loved and now I’m all  _ alone _ and it’s all your fucking fault. Fuck your politics and you anti-Gotei bullshit- nothing justifies what you did to me. You made me look like a  _ monster, _ ”

The grip around Ichigo tightened, forcing a whimper from his throat as his struggling ceased. “For fucks sake, when are you going to realize that that’s exactly what you are to them?!” The hollow’s voice was raising now, concern bleeding through the cracks of his obvious annoyance, “They keep an eye on you like you’re a lowly dog on a leash! Pacifism, it’s a great idea in theory King, but even you must understand when there’s a need to fight! They’ve got you wrapped so tightly around their fingers- they’ve breathed toxic air into your lungs so long that you can’t even see the truth anymore! Don’t you ever feel something else knawing? Something telling you that every order isn’t absolute?” If there was mere concern dancing across his tongue before it had now turned into full on desperation, swaying the rage in Ichigo and simmering it down until it was just a low rattle in his chest. Maybe there was some truth to his words after all, or maybe he was just a better actor than the ginger had anticipated.

“If you’re so serious about convincing me,” Ichigo started, shifting in the hardened hold, “Then put your money where your loud fuckin’ mouth is. Prove it if you want me to trust you,”

The other straightened against Ichigo’s sun-kissed skin, surprised that there was any part of the ginger willing to trust him. He could practically hear the small smile that momentarily graced his snowy features. He thought for a second, choosing his words carefully before carrying on. “They’re serpents with silver tongues,” He finally decided on, “They’ve tricked you into trusting them- into following orders without question. I don’t think I need to prove  _ anything _ to you, you’ve already begun to doubt them yourself, and it wasn’t a seed of doubt that  _ I’d _ planted,” The ivory male gently grabbed Ichigo’s shoulders putting him at an arm’s length so he could stare into his defiant eyes, “The Winter War all those years ago, you know that their orders of ‘assassinate on sight’ were wrong. Even you, the golden boy and saving grace of the Gotei 13, didn’t follow them completely. You slaughtered all those arrancar without a thought, without a single other option on your brain, and yet you let Grimmjow live. That’s a big indiscretion, wouldn’t you say?”

The ginger averted his eyes, guilt soaking his skin as if a fresh storm had begun to rain down around him. In the moment, leaving Grimmjow alive just felt like the right thing to do. Sure he’d rearranged Rukia’s organs, and he’d almost killed him multiple times, but there was something else there, a nagging that ceaselessly tried to convince him that the espada wasn’t all that bad after all. It’s not like he’d been  _ wrong _ , and it’s not like anyone had really _ known _ he’d left Grimmjow alive- sans the few people that were there when it happened- so was it  _ really _ breaking rules? Clearing his throat awkwardly, he shifted anxiously under white fingertips. “Indiscretion or not, it all worked out in the end didn’t it? Grimmjow was useful to us against the quincies. He worked alongside the Gotei without incident. Symbiotic relationship- easy,”

Golden irises hardened instantly, shooting Ichigo a look of pure disappointment. “Are you an idiot?” He started, tightening his grip on the Ginger’s warm shoulders, “Are you really naïve enough to believe that they give a shit about him? Once he wears out his usefulness they won’t be so kind. This isn’t symbiotic, it’s purely parasitic! What happens when they go after him? Are you going to be so compliant then? What happens when they decide that they want to harvest Hueco Mundo’s resources? What happens when they send  _ you _ in to execute Harribel and Nelliel and all their fracciones? Will you really be able to slaughter those you care so much about, just to preserve this Shinigami identity you lust for so strongly? Would you really be able to stand there and slit Grimmjow’s throat for the glory of the Gotei?”

An icy chill ran down Ichigo’s spine, lingering momentarily to caress every vertebra on it’s way. Kill Harribel? Kill  _ Nel _ ?  **_Kill Grimmjow_ ** ? Would his close friends ever dare ask that of him? Would Rukia and Renji- would Head Captain Kyoraku  _ really _ ask him to pull off such a feat? Surely not he would hope, but as the idea festered in his brain and became a  _ very _ real scenario, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Head Captain Yamamoto had been less than forgiving in the past, one striking instance being the quick finger pointed at Orihime that labeled her a traitor when she was carted away to Hueco Mundo, who could tell how Kyoraku would act in his wake? Sure he wasn’t as uptight, but rules were rules, and  _ arrancar were arrancar _ . 

Swallowing audibly and putting on a brave face, Ichigo persisted. “They  _ wouldn’t _ ask that of me. Grimmjow _isn’t_ a threat, and neither are Nel and Harribel. They don’t just kill to kill you know, just because you’re on the other side doesn’t mean you can justify your prejudice that way. They trust me, and if I vouch for the arrancar they’re likely to listen. It’s as simple as that,” 

Releasing his grip and standing this time, the hollow glowered at Ichigo. Anger was etched across his face, making the soft snowy features of before harden into unforgiving ice. “So that’s how you want to be huh? You’re just going to live this way? Pretend? You think just shutting up and putting on some sick smile like everything’s okay is going to make everything normal again? Well I’ve got news for you King, that’s not how it fucking works. What happened to being the ‘protector’ huh  _ Ichigo _ ? You’re setting everyone in Hueco Mundo up for  **_slaughter_ ** . You think you can just give them one of your pretty boy smiles and everything will end up right with the world? You’re more than half hollow, and now that you’ve gone crazy and injured your own, you got as much of a target on your head as Grimmjow,”

Having heard enough, Ichigo stood toe to toe with the pale mirror image of himself, matching his glare and breathing out rage in vicious waves, “Would you just  _ shut up _ ?!" He roared, "God, Gotei this and Hueco Mundo that, you’re like a goddamn broken record! You think I don’t know that they’re not an absolute power? You think I don’t understand the under-the-table shit that they do constantly? I’m not fucking stupid!” He took a deep breath, letting the influx of air burn in his lungs as they filled to capacity. Letting it out, he continued, “And  _ Grimmjow _ ! Why are you so  _ fixated _ on him? 99% of the time he doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself, what makes you think he gives a shit what kind of target I put on his back? He can barely stand me as it is!”

For a second there was only silence as they stood and stared at each other, Ichigo’s rough breaths the only sound indicating time hadn’t stopped completely. Maybe he  _ was _ a little out of line. It seemed like truth enough that the hollow was only advocating for what was best for them- nothing thus far had really seemed like an outright lie. He certainly didn’t  _ trust _ the other, not just yet at least, but against his better judgement he’d guessed that maybe this once he could give him the benefit of the doubt. An apology readied on his tongue, but as he opened his mouth to spill it he was met with an obnoxious laugh. Raising his eyebrow in question and then lowering it to glower at the other, he let out a frustrated sigh. “ _ What _ ?”

“Is that really what you think?” Came the equally obnoxious reply, “That blue haired doofus has been infatuated with you since the first day he laid his eyes on you. If you can’t see that King, then you are much  _ much _ dumber than I’d originally thought,”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes further, hellbent on burning a hole through the snowy male with his hot cinnamon glare. Any motivation to apologize instantly died as the ginger’s annoyance encompassed him. “Let me repeat myself,  _ what?? _ ” Golden eyes were wet with amused tears as glassy irises fed his irritation, “Do we know the same Grimmjow, because from my angle, you know, as the person who actually _ spends time _ with the guy, I can’t help but feel like you’re talking out of your ass to sway my opinion on your grand ‘Gotei Desertion’,”

A pure white eyebrow shot into a familiar hairline as black and gold studied him in a muddle of clear stupefaction, “You’re being serious?” He snorted, never leaving Ichigo’s warm honey glare, “I don’t need to use Grimmjow as a tool to convince you of the truth, you’re doing well enough with that on your own. Don’t forget I see what you see King, I know where those lips have almost been,”

Ichigo was sure he could’ve killed him right then and there. The tips of his ears burned, sending a surge of the same familiar warmth to take over his cheeks. It was none of the hollow’s business who he decided to kiss- or in this case almost kiss- and it  _ certainly _ wasn’t his job to give him that speculative look. He felt like a child misbehaving, as if his mother had just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. Embarrassment turned to anger and then defense as a need to explain himself surged through him.

“He tried to kiss  _ me _ ! I never asked for it!” Ichigo tried, only to narrow his eyes as the snowy male gave him an incredulous look. Throwing his hands in the air in exasperation, the ginger conceded, “ _ Fine! _ Say I  _ do _ want to kiss him, what does that matter? Weren’t you trying to sell me on this whole ‘Gotei 13 is evil’ plot? What the fuck does my sexual orientation have to do with that?!”

“Everything and nothing at the same time King,” Grabbing a sunny hand and stroking a pure white thumb against the other’s knuckles, he took this chance to soften his gaze, taking in the ginger’s blushed cheeks, “You’ve been keeping company with the same people your entire life. You may think that in the long run your best chances are with someone like Orihime or Uryu, but what you fail to realize is that they’ve only fallen in love with  _ pieces _ of you, unable to love the monster you keep inside. Orihime will never love the hollow that reminds her so much of Sora, and Uryu will never fall in love with the abomination he exists to purge from this earth, and as savage as it sounds, it’s just the crooked truth. I advocate for Grimmjow for one reason, and it has nothing to do with the Gotei, King,”

Ichigo frowned, pursing his lips and thinking for a second before giving in, “Why then?”

The world started to swirl back around him, an undercurrent of waves knocking him off his feet. Golden eyes were trained on his feeble figure, crushing him under the weight of the emotions whirlpooling with the water around them. “Grimmjow fell for  _ you _ , not the shinigami and human fronts you put up. He’s seen what you can do- seen the  _ atrocities _ you can commit, and still he’s unafraid,” The hollow’s voice had begun to dull and Ichigo’s body began to pull the opposite direction. Despite the tug of war the ivory male had begun, he pressed on. “He stood up to me, fearless and cocky against my power. He’s always wanted you at full power Ichigo, never just when it was convenient like Yamamoto. Haven’t you noticed he’s been trying to kiss you  _ now _ of all times? You’ve got  _ nothing _ . No help from your Shinigami friends, not even a word of wellness from your human friends- you’re feared and volatile, so tell me, why is it he still wants to kiss you?” Ichigo’s hands were slipping, the pale fingertips slipping slowly away from his grasp, “This is what you want Ichigo, trust me. Going back to those Shinigami rats will only leave you in a cage. You will never _ever_ be loved the way you deserve to be. Give Hueco Mundo- give  _ Grimmjow -  _ a chance. Until next time, King,”

Hand finally released, Ichigo was pulled roughly towards the surface, his hollow duplicate seemingly unaffected by the rough seas that surged around him. His lungs filled with seawater, burning his tongue and throat as he choked. He was sure he was going to die, drowning in the world he’d long since lost to Zangetsu and the inverted copy. He should’ve been fighting back, thrashing against the waves and clawing his way to survival, instead he shut his eyes tightly, stilling his body as the salt water assaulted his nose and stole the last bits of oxygen he’d held onto. 

Soon the debilitating dizziness subsided and air filled Ichigo’s raw lungs with haste. Cautiously, not feeling the oceanic waters raging around him, he opened his eyes, instantly letting himself go lax at the welcome sight before him.

Messy blue strands framed a sleeping face, creases of worry still furrowing equally blue eyebrows. His limbs felt leaden, the transfer back into his body this time much less graceful as the adrenaline from before was absent in his veins. He could only stare at the bewildering sight before him. With his back propped against the same mattress Ichigo had initially been bandaged and tucked into, Grimmjow’s head lay gently to the side, cheek resting comfortably against silky sheets. He’d wrapped the bed’s soft blanket around Ichigo, letting him lay in his lap as dead weight, bringing a smile to the ginger’s face as he thought about the pieta and how painfully similar they must’ve looked. 

Raising his arm carefully, Ichigo caressed a teal estigma with the pad of his thumb. When Grimmjow wasn’t loud and scowling, there were things Ichigo could begin to notice, things he wouldn’t have seen in the heat of the moment otherwise. For example, the arrancars fringe, damp with what Ichigo could only imagine was worried sweat, had begun to loosely curl at the ends, giving the blue strands a gentle wave instead of the pin-straight wildness the ginger was used to. The aforementioned freckles that Ichigo had seen only once before were much more noticeable now, the dark beauty marks in stark contrast to the espada’s pale skin. He was  _ beautiful _ , almost frustratingly so. How could someone who had been dead so long look so  _ stunning _ ? 

Lost in affectionate thought and still mindlessly stroking the face of the sleeping arrancar, Ichigo hadn’t even noticed when the other had begun to stir, only being shaken from his musings when azure eyes fluttered open. Going rigid with panic as his hand gently cupped Grimmjow’s face, he could feel his cheeks begin to heat in mortification. Panicking and stumbling on his words, Ichigo managed to croak out a weak, “G-Goodmorning. . . ?” 

Grimmjow sighed, laughing gently through his nose and smoothing the worried wrinkles from his face. “That all you have to say Kurosaki? I lost about five of my lives looking after you, thought you were completely done for,” He paused for a second, training his eyes on the blanket instead of Ichigo’s burning face, “You warm enough? I didn’t know what to do when you knocked out, and Nelliel was just as clueless, but I figured, you know, Hueco Mundo isn’t really known for its sunshine and you’re still kinda human, so I didn’t know if you’d get cold or whatever and I kind of just decided to cover you. And I know what you’re thinking- fuck off don’t look at me like that- it’s not what you think okay? If you die here the fuckers in the Gotei would have both my and Harribel’s head” 

Ichigo couldn’t help but smile. Grimmjow was rambling, going on a nervous little tangent trying to justify his compassionate actions, and selfishly, the ginger was enjoying it. To see the normally abrasive arrancar showing emotions other than malice was nice, and perhaps his hollow was right. Maybe this _ is _ what he wanted. Maybe the other knew him better than he gave him credit for. He hadn’t lied to him once- Orihime was terrified of him, and Ichigo had known deep inside that there was a reason him and Uryu hadn’t worked out. There was always something missing, a nagging sickening feeling that told him exactly what he’d already known deep inside; Everyone was afraid of him. It was plain as day, the way all of his comrades tip-toed around the subject of his hollowfication, the way the Gotei desperately tried to keep Ichigo on their side, even going as far as threatening to execute him should he act out. It was all there, laid bare right in front of him. Here though- here in the arms of a rough animalistic killer with the soft side of a seemingly closeted hopeless romantic, he’d felt more alive than he ever had with the others. With Nel gently working through his hair and reminding him of all the good times he’d spent with his mother, with Harribel keeping herself on the sidelines but accepting Ichigo with open arms no less, and with Grimmjow showing him what it felt like to be ordinary, to be more than a monster wearing human skin, it all just felt overwhelmingly like  _ home _ . Like for once everything would be _ alright _ \- like he didn’t have to lift a finger, he didn’t have to save the world, because for once,  _ here _ , it wasn’t falling down. It wasn’t on his shoulders. 

Cautiously lifting his other hand and cupping Grimmjow’s masked cheek, he pulled Grimmjow down, touching their foreheads and intermingling their anxious breath. “Thank you Grimmjow,” Ichigo started, slipping his fingertips instead into messy cerulean waves, “You’ve taken great care of me, and I really don’t deserve it. I’m alright now, and I promise I’m not going anywhere, I just have one request,”

Nudging his head softly against Ichigo’s, Grimmjow eyes sank lower and lower, his gaze ghosting across every feature of the ginger’s face until it landed on his parted lips. Seemingly lost in a trance, he only grunted at first, a questioning hum that Ichigo almost took as a response. Before he could form his words, the espada spoke up. “Oh yeah? Thought I’d done enough for you already. What request could _ this _ be?”

Smirking at the shitty attitude he was glad to be on the receiving end of once again, Ichigo nudged his head back against Grimmjow’s, their noses briefly brushing and causing the arrancars eyes to flutter closed. Rough hands pulled the ginger closer, pressing him flush between the plush fabric of the blanket and the warm chest of the espada. Heartbeats hammered in sync and Ichigo felt daring as he stole a glance at waiting lips. Letting out the breath he was sure he’d been holding for much too long, he let the tension escape from his limbs, finally uttering words he clung to as his saving grace.

“Kiss me,”


	5. Heavy Is The Sound Of The Slaughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyoooo!! My week has been an eventful cesspool of saving a kitten, eating BBQ chicken pizza for the first time, and totally handicapping my legs from chasing the poor kitten around my yard so I could warm her up and feed her lmao In other words, pls direct your angry mobs away from me after this chapter ^^'' ((Oh and happy Easter to all who celebrate it- I'm pagan so I'm not really part of the Jesus club, but no hate to you if you are! Enjoy your holiday!))
> 
> Songs for this shindig include:  
> beetlejuicebeetlejuicebeetlejuice by Life After Youth  
> Animal by Badflower  
> Tears Don't Fall (Acoustic Ver.) by Bullet for My Valentine  
> Move Me by Badflower  
> bitches broken hearts by Billie Eilish
> 
> Enjoy!!! ((ALSO!! Trigger warning, as the word r*pe is used later in this chapter))

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez’ lips were nothing like Ichigo could’ve ever anticipated. They were cathartic and warm, reminding the ginger of pure sunshine rippling through the clouds on a rainy day. The heat that surrounded the arrancar quickly soaked Ichigo, leaving the plush blanket to fall from his shoulders into a heap on the floor. Strong arms locked him into the embrace, squeezing him between gentle, cautious hands and the smooth fabric of Grimmjow’s jumpsuit. The cold metal of the zipper bit into Ichigo’s clavicle as he absorbed the espada’s warmth, but he could hardly feel it as his body buzzed with delirious desire. 

Ichigo hadn’t kissed many lips in his life, making this an even more peculiar event. He’d wanted to save his first kiss for the person he’d known was the right one, but after hearing Orihime joking about Chad’s awkward smooch with her the day they’d gotten together, his confidence was seriously shaken. The ginger had enlisted the help of Kon- or well Kon in Ichigo’s human body- knowing that the perverted mod soul had to have some sort of technique he could clue him in on. It was all a very confusing turn of events, but in the end, somehow he’d let Kon steal his first kiss. After that his lips had only ever touched Uryu’s. Their experimental relationship had lasted a year and a half, breaking off amicably when Ichigo had begun to feel a nagging deep inside him that something was wrong- maybe not with the relationship, but with him as a whole. Since then, he hadn’t even dared thinking about sharing such an intimate act with anyone else- his brain was still convinced he’d fall back into the quincy’s arms at the end of the day. He’d thought that was where he belonged. Maybe he’d been wrong. 

With an impatient shove, Ichigo’s back met the cool marble floor, Grimmjow’s lips greedily never separating from his for a moment. The blanket from before was bunched up against his lower spine, forcing an arch in his back and pressing him even closer to the espada. Warm hands roamed clumsily, tangling in silky bandages and pulling them loose from his injured midsection mindlessly. Ichigo’s fingers explored uncharacteristically timidly, seeking out the jumpsuit’s zipper and pulling it down slowly, rewarding him with a shudder that was barely there. He smiled against Grimmjow’s lips, using the small distraction to slip the fabric down the arrancar’s shoulders and down his torso until all Ichigo could feel was hardened abs and scarred flesh all the way down to the other’s hollow hole.

Cautious fingertips traced the edge of the foreign body part, eliciting small groans in tandem with his gentle caressing. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel much different than the rest of him. The edge was soft like the skin around it, the inside feeling almost identical to the scar that split his torso. It was definitely odd, but it didn’t discourage him, in fact, it actually brought another small smile to his face. There was solidarity there- a similarity between the two that he’d never shared with people like Uryu. Grimmjow was smeared with the blood of others, probably drowning in the memories of those he’d had to erase to survive, but overall, he was a  _ hollow _ . The same cursed blood that had made Ichigo an abomination had made Grimmjow who he was, and it was coursing though his blood just the same as the gingers. Was the part of him constantly seeking chaos, hungry for blood, not monstrous at all but instead just another piece of him? Another piece of the larger puzzle that made him up? If he shared this with Grimmjow, did that mean that for once someone would find every aspect of him beautiful, instead of picking apart the flaws and choosing what was pleasing to other’s eyes?

Grimmjow pressed himself harder against Ichigo, skin practically screaming for more contact as their kiss finally deepened, a warm tongue almost stripping the taste of menthol nicotine from the ginger’s mouth. Ichigo hummed at the foreign intrusion, not at all used to kissing like this after so much time alone. Gently dragging his nails up the length of the espada’s torso, and goading more delightful groans from his throat, Ichigo’s slim fingers tangled in mussed and overgrown hair, pulling gently at his roots and letting himself moan as Grimmjow’s tongue tasted every inch of his own.

As time passed, groans and moans became frequent and hands began to wander, and soon the espada’s fingertips had found their way to the waistband of Ichigo’s sweatpants. Warmth coiled in the ginger’s gut, part arousal and part insecurity. Sure he’d wanted to take this as far as the espada did, but was he even ready for that commitment? He wasn’t anything special, he was just an orange haired punk that happened to have power, just a boy that was thrust into a world and forced to defend it. He didn’t deserve the love of someone so redeeming, someone who had the capacity to be so kind. Most of all, he didn’t deserve the lips that painted his neck in reds and purples, drawing moans to the surface and dipping fingers below the beltline. 

The espada got only as far as a curly mess of pubes before they almost jumped out of their skins as a clatter sounded in the doorway. Grimmjow was the first to survey the person standing there, while Ichigo immediately cast his eyes on the tray of broken glass laying discarded at the woman’s feet. A raised eyebrow and a gaze of fire and ice met hardened azure as Apache stood with one foot in the room. Ichigo tried to form words, but the espada’s warm hand still centimeters from the growing problem in his pants left him mute. The arrancar woman took the silence as her invitation to speak first. 

“Wow Jaegerjaquez,” she snorted, ignoring the shards of glass at her feet as she took a step closer, “Didn’t think you were serious about fucking the weakness out of him,” Eyes of amber and blue trained on Ichigo now, taking in his weak appearance and judging him openly with a scoff and a wave of her hand, “Why would you even let a loser like him in your pants anyway? Out of all the chicks you could choose, why him?”

Ichigo was at a loss for words, suddenly feeling all the warmth drain from his body as he processed Apache’s words. ‘Fuck the weakness out of him’? What the  _ fuck _ did that mean? Was there something the ginger was missing? Voice barely above a whisper, Ichigo squeaked out a weak, “ _ Excuse me? _ ”

The female’s face lit up in what Ichigo could only describe as a level of mischievous he’d only seen on Yoruichi Shihoin, before she let out a boisterous laugh. “Oh no, did you really think this pathetic fool actually  _ liked _ you?” She was bright pink now, tears of hilarity gathering in the laugh lines next to her mismatched eyes, “What made you think him of all people would fall for someone like  _ you _ ? You’re a  _ mutt _ , a dirty  _ half breed _ that thinks he’s hot shit because he saved the world. What kind of poor bastard would want some  _ egomaniac _ like you? All this stupid cat wanted was to figure out your weaknesses and destroy you, simple as that. Told me himself while you slept soundly like a baby in his bed like the over-trusting idiot you are. God you’re sooooo  _ pathetic _ ,”

Ichigo couldn’t breathe. Her words bit at him like hypothermia, draining every ounce of optimistic warmth from his veins, chilling him to his bones and causing him to back slowly out of Grimmjow’s affectionate grip. Wet, hot tears slid down his cheeks before he even knew they were there, soaking his face and choking soft sobs from his throat. 

Grimmjow, on the other hand, looked like a deer in headlights, almost taken aback by her claims save for a hint of fury that danced behind oceanic irises. He was giving her a half-hearted glare, either wordlessly telling her to back off or furious that she had spoiled his sick little plans. Ichigo wasn’t even sure which one- it wasn’t as if he knew Grimmjow anyway, he was naive to think any differently. He was just like everyone else- just another disappointment waiting to happen, another scab to pick at, another scar to irritate his skin. 

Through tear blurred honey eyes, Ichigo stared at Grimmjow, doing every single thing he could to paint his face with the pain and betrayal he felt festering inside of him. He wanted the espada to  _ hurt _ , he wanted him to have to witness the pain he’d caused, the devastation he’d created. He was stupid to have trusted him, he was stupid to have even agreed to come here with him in the first place. This place held no warmth, it was foolish of him to have thought he could change that. When icy eyes met his they softened considerably, even going as far as to look wounded when Ichigo’s lips drew up in a frown like a pouting child, the only thing he could do to hold in the hysteria building in his throat. 

Try as he may, Ichigo couldn’t steady his voice, not even when he began to speak in a hushed feeble tone. “Is she telling the truth?” He choked out, the pain in his voice making Grimmjow wince, “Did you really say that?”

Grimmjow looked away, darting his eyes around the room and guiltily trying to find an explanation that would suffice, “Kurosaki listen, I-”

Ichigo cut him off before he could even begin. Reiterating it more forcefully this time, the ginger sobbed out, “ **_Did you say it, yes or no?_ ** ”

The espada inched closer, grabbing for Ichigo’s hand and being slapped away immediately. He sighed, settling back into his previous position kneeling a few feet away. “ _ Yes _ , I said it, but  _ Ichigo _ , you _really_ need to  _ listen _ -”

The ginger had heard enough- he’d heard all he needed to. The espada had confessed and Ichigo was left as the fool once more, painted like the absolute fucking idiot he felt like- bringing him back to the stinging pain of a broadsword stuck through his sternum, the look on his supposed  _ ‘friends’ _ face as he impaled him still sickeningly clear in his memory as they took his fullbring and made him pathetic and powerless once more. Humiliated in front of not only his boyfriend that he’d failed to protect, but in front of his actual friends as well, he’d only wished in that moment that the blow would’ve killed him. He’d felt like that  _ now _ as he clawed at the skin that covered that same spot on his sternum, the phantom pain nearly choking him. Not even bothering to listen to whatever bullshit Grimmjow had decided to make up in an attempt to goad him back into playing his twisted game, Ichigo stood on shaking legs, promptly giving the espada the finger. “ _ Fuck you _ ,” He growled, letting bitter new tears soak his face.

Pushing his way past a smug Apache and marching his way down the corridor, Ichigo was sure the only thing keeping him upright was adrenaline. He was _sick_ of this place, sick of the _people_ , sick of the way it made him _feel_ inside. This was such a stupid childish idea- a childish ideal that told him they’d all sit by the fire and sing kumbaya because he was one of them now. He was so goddamn _stupid_ \- they were _hollows_ , he shouldn’t have expected them to have any sense of humanity or dignity. **_They were monsters_**. 

Ichigo stumbled through a marble doorway, silencing the conversation between Nel and Pesche as they watched him tremble in agony. The hurt on the female’s face was painful, and though Pesche still had his mask, even he showed concern in bright yellow eyes. The ginger didn’t have time to explain anything, Nel already knew Grimmjow was a dirtbag- why would it be any surprise to her that he’d decided to rip his heart clean out of his chest? Ichigo had just been a pawn in a sick sadistic game this entire time and Nel could’ve even known it too, so why did he owe her the satisfaction of his demise? Though the horror on her face would’ve been hard to fake, he didn’t spare her any warmth when he glowered at her with dark chocolate eyes.

“Garganta.  **_Now_ ** . I’m sick of this- I’m sick of you people and your cold dark world! I’m sick of everyone telling me what to do and telling me what to be, I just want to go  _ home _ !” Bracing himself against the wall to force his body to stay upright, the ginger continued, voice going hoarse as he sobbed his heart out, “I’m sick of people pretending to care- people getting my hopes up and just fucking abandoning me! All you people say the same fucking things, the same promises the same stupid speeches condemning abandonment but you’re all the motherfucking **_same_ ** !! I’m sick of everything! I’m sick of these powers, I’m sick of these fucking worlds, I’m sick of saving all you people, and I’m sick of being Ichigo fucking Kurosaki! Don’t either of you say a goddamn word to me- just let me go  _ home _ ,”

Nel was absolutely taken aback, tears gathering in her big hazel eyes as she looked at him with sorrow, her face turning red the harder she tried to keep her own sobs at bay. She looked at Ichigo like every inch that separated them felt like a killing blow, but despite the obvious anguish on her face at being unable to help, she held her hand out, beckoning a dark ripple in the space of her room for her ginger friend to escape through. She’d probably hoped for him to change his mind, maybe stay a bit and calm down, work through whatever was bothering him so that he didn’t have to feel this way, but all he did was coldly run past her, escaping into the blackness and struggling to keep the reishi footholds solid under his feet. 

While Ichigo made his way toward the bright light that beckoned him home, he couldn’t help but take a second to confront his inner hollow. “I shouldn’t have ever fucking trusted you,” He sobbed, chest so tight with misery he could’ve sworn that tattooed sphere on his chest was now an open and gaping chasm, “Fuck you and your hollow games- and don’t you **_ever_** try and interfere with my life again,” 

He was broken- a porcelain figure smashed to pieces without care. He was livid with heartache, any semblance of trust he’d harbored now maimed by the betrayal he’d been forced to suffer, and yet even after every overwhelming emotion had assaulted his five senses, he still masochistically craved the gentle hands that weaved him into this sadistic web. He just wanted to be back home in his room- he needed to be there, needed his pills. He wanted to feel numb, wanted to be able to lay in his bed for hours mapping out the lines on his ceiling, drifting in and out of consciousness without a care in the world. He wanted to be oblivious to any and everything, left to sulk and sob, alone with his overdose to cradle him to sleep.

Stepping out of the garganta and up to the front door of his home, Ichigo took in a shaky breath before turning the knob. Once inside, his only goal was to make it to his room, but as soon as he felt eyes on him- the sickeningly concerned gazes from his father and Karin while Yuzu tried to make sense of the silent poltergeist- he just couldn't find it in himself to move any further. His lips were surely still kiss swollen, puffy and red with treachery, paired with purpling hickeys on his neck as further proof of deception- he was definitely a sight to behold. He knew the sweatpants hung a little too low on his lips, his bandages perhaps a little too loose, his hair a little too mussed. He probably looked like a fresh rape victim to his family, tears still burning his cheeks as they tumbled down, evidence on his body looking more like he’d had sex than been double-crossed and heartbroken. He wished he’d cared enough to calm their insinuations, had enough dignity to go red with mortification at the fact that his father was now aware that he (almost) had some sort of sex life, but he couldn’t even coax the smallest explanation through his hitching breath, let alone his normal animated routine with his family. So instead of saying anything, he just made his way up to his bedroom, not even looking back as eyes burned holes into his bare back.

Tossing back pills like it was nobody’s business, Ichigo threw himself against his mattress and buried his broken expression in the recesses of his pillow. Rage and desolation, pain and loneliness- he was plagued by a cacophony of screaming emotions, distant wails that tugged his heart in too many directions and confused him. Now that he was finally home, finally in his bed and away from the betrayal that drowned him in Hueco Mundo, he was able to recount the tragedy of the faith he’d put into the arrancar. He’d _ trusted  _ Grimmjow. He’d let him  _ kiss  _ him. Of all the moronic decisions he’d made in his lifetime this took the cake. Apache was right; How could he have thought someone like Grimmjow would harbor any intent to pursue him romantically? He was the enemy- an arrancar who was hell bent on revenge because he’d lost his self proclaimed title as the King of everything.  _ Boo-fucking-hoo _ , that had nothing on preying on someone’s naivety and stealing their dignity- If he was the King of anything, he surely would’ve been the King of  _ cruelty _ . The way Ichigo’s heart continued to shatter in his chest was proof of the cruel mistreatment.

Wrapping a cautious arm around the distressed ginger, Kon sighed as he made his ignored presence known, his body now squished against the wall as Ichigo suffocated in his pillow. “I’ll be here when you want to talk, but Ichigo you really have to quit it with those pills. You’ve only got one life ya know,” His attempt at lighthearted criticism was ignored completely as the boy inhaled shakily next to him. “Hey, can you hear me? You know I’m piloting your body right? If you don’t answer me I’m going to pinch the shit out of your armpits, and we  _ both _ know how much that hurts,”

Concerned by the lack of response he’d been receiving, Kon pulled Ichigo up by the arms until they were face to face. He braced his hand against the ginger’s shaky elbow as he used his thumb to trace the bruised coloring that had begun to blossom under his eyes. More bitter tears made their way down his sullen face, and this time it was Kon who took in an unsure breath. He had no idea what was plaguing the other, oblivious to all of the pain and torment that was swimming in Ichigo’s newly drug muddled brain. His eyes lacked vibrancy, the light that once shown in them now stomped out like the butt of a cigarette on the unforgiving pavement. 

“Hey sunshine, c’mon, tell me what’s up. You know I’m here to listen to ya right? I don’t even need to give my two cents. I’ll just sit silently if that’s what you need,” Kon tried reaching him again, grasping at any conversation starter he could to force open the fortress that Ichigo’s emotions sat hidden behind. He waited, hoping he’d find a dull flicker behind glazed honey irises, but all he was given was a shaky inhale as Ichigo’s gaze slid left to the unmarked bottle of pills sitting on his desk. Grabbing them quickly, Kon shoved them under his thigh, momentarily wincing as the hard plastic cut into his circulation. “No way Ichigo, you’ve already taken  _ way _ too many of those tonight, If you keep chuggin’ them down like fuckin’ flintstones vitamins you’re going to end up in the hospital. Talk to me,  _ please. _ Letting this out  _ has _ to be better than poisoning yourself,”

This time Ichigo scoffed, eyes languidly fluttering closed for a second before nailing Kon with unforgivingly broken cinnamon eyes, “I’d really like to think that  _ Kon _ , but I don’t want to be here anymore. Everyone I loved, everyone I trusted to love  _ me _ \- everyone’s just gone. At my lowest point,  _ my absolute lowest _ , he let me believe I was more than a monster. I felt at _ home _ . I felt, for the first time in my miserable  _ fucking _ life, that everything was going to be alright. Everything was a _lie_ \- everything  _ is _ a lie Kon, and I don’t want to be part of this fucking simulation anymore,” Tears were now streaming down the ginger’s face once again as Kon tried to make sense of the bits and pieces of the situation Ichigo was hinting at. Frustrated at the mentally constipated look on Kon’s face, the ginger reduced himself to silent sobs once again, not wanting to talk about the thing that made him want to hang himself. He was just about to punch the other in the jaw and grab for his pills when Kon wrapped his arms tightly around him, kissing his forehead for good measure.

“Listen Ich, I don’t know who hurt you, or what even happened today that made you so sad, but you’re _ wrong _ . Yuzu, Karin, your dad, even me, we all love you- we’ve been worried _sick_ about you this entire time. None of us are going anywhere, we’ll _never_ be ‘gone’ to you. Do you know how many times I’ve had to cuddle a crying Yuzu to sleep because she ‘didn’t care that it wasn’t Ichigo inside?’ Do you know how many times she told me she just ‘needed to feel’ that you were still real? Even Karin came in here cryin’ like a little girl about her big brother. Ichigo, everything  **_is_ ** going to be alright, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now. Even if you don’t believe me and you think I’m just spewing some Ghadi level bullshit, I’ll promise you if I have to. I’ll work hard, I’ll-I’ll do whatever I can to make it okay for you again, just please,  _ please _ , stop crying. It really hurts me to see you this way..”

Casting a blurred glance at the plastic cap that poked out from under sunny freckled thighs, Ichigo weighed his options, ultimately being swayed by the honesty and care that practically radiated from Kon, soaking his frozen bones with a rejuvenating warmth he desperately needed. Wrapping his arms around the other gently, he spoke again, quieter and much weaker this time, “Alright,” He started, clearing his throat and shifting in the loving grip, “What do you suppose it is I do then? How would you suggest I deal with my heart being torn to shreds?”

Rubbing his head against Ichigo’s like an affectionate cat, Kon hummed in thought for a second, “Heartbreak is definitely a tough one, but honestly, I’d just have fun sunshine,” He paused for a second letting Ichigo tear away and glare at his ludicrous idea, “Listen _listen_ , hear me out before you pummel me okay? Heartbreak  _ happens _ . It’s just part of life. Sure it feels like the end of the world,  _ especially _ if you were in love with that special someone, but like the saying goes, ‘after rain comes fair weather’. Your skies won’t be gray forever Ichigo, and there’s nothing like a good old trip to an arcade or a bar to fill your mind with a hint of those clear blue skies, am I right?”

Ichigo stared into identical honey eyes, considering Kon’s opinion and thinking deeply on it for a second. Maybe he was right- maybe all the ginger had needed was a few drinks in him and a dance with some handsome stranger, one that could encompass the entirety of the electric blue that stained his vision. Perhaps for once Kon had _actually_ solved his problems for him. Nudging his forehead back and mimicking Kon’s affectionate actions, Ichigo stared into uncertain honey, sighing gently across the other’s face and watching it go pink in embarrassment. “Thanks Kon, I really don’t know what I’d do without you,” Shifting slightly, the ginger laid himself down, burrowing underneath what blankets he could salvage and nudging a starstruck Kon with his back, “C’mon, let’s get to bed. I don’t feel very good and I think these pills are  _ reeeeeally _ working their charms because I don’t feel like eating a bullet anymore at all. I’ll let you stay in my body the rest of the night, just promise me you won’t leave?”

He felt Kon’s response more than heard it, grateful as arms instantly wrapped around him and a familiar body framed his back and pulled him into a shielding embrace. He was absolutely miserable, the feeling of Grimmjow’s lips- his tongue and teeth, every part of his traitorous mouth replaying over and over in his head and filling him with the worst emptiness he’d ever felt. No matter how many pills he’d already taken, his anguished body craved more- craved a coma that would stop these broken feelings, stop these masochistic and idiotic desires from flaring in his mind and making him feel worse. He’d hoped Kon was right about distracting himself, because if he had to live with this overwhelming torment past today he was sure his brain would melt. The feelings that built in his chest, festering inside of him and chilling his bones, he just wanted it all to stop. He couldn’t even imagine the hellstorm he’d be dealing with in the morning when his father burst in, or when he’d have to sit at the breakfast table knowing full well Karin knew whatever he was getting up to in his spare time. Ichigo internally groaned, not at all ready to face the daylight when it assaulted the Earth in mere hours. 

Arms tightened around his waist, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the moment. Unconsciously he’d begun to shake, alarming Kon and warranting an affectionate squeeze from him. His eyelids were becoming heavy, weighing down and down until he finally couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. Drifting into a reluctant drug induced sleep, Ichigo heard only one more thing before letting xanax guide him into chemically manufactured bliss.

“It’s alright Ichigo, everything will be okay. I promise you,”


End file.
